My eyes widen as I gaze through the dimensional window I just created, and out upon the raging hurricane of violence currently ensuing on its other end. As I only made said window for the purposes of viewing, it isn't physically connected to the space in question — which was perhaps for the best, as the frenzied engagement is widespread enough that it takes me a couple seconds just to fully understand what I'm looking at.

The landscape I now find sprawled before me is a vast section of Purgatorio's sky, just a few hundred feet above an ocean of Earth-born clouds, currently cast in reddish-gold by the light of the setting sun. Angelic and demonic sigils alike have been scattered across the atmosphere, providing solid ground and purchase for the various combatants to engage each other upon — yet ironically, it's the only ones completely incapable of flight that seem to almost need them the least, as the muscular, four-armed, and startlingly quick demons I know to be Sloths flip and launch themselves across the battlefield like a group of fiendish acrobats. Opposing them are a disorganized flock of Affinities, several herds of Acceptances, a small fever of Harmonies, and a few other scattered angels, many with at least one translucent human soul in tow... and all of whom are presently completely unable to leave the area, owing to the massive infernal seal that's been laid over it, denying exit to those of Laguna trapped within its confines.

Alarmingly, the battle itself can only really be described as one by technicality — from what I'm seeing, it would be more accurate to describe it as a slaughter, and not one in favor of the angels. Despite being outnumbered at least 50 to 1, the speed, skill, and power of the Sloths so far exceeds that of most of their opposition that they might as well be fighting inanimate objects, the sextet of crimson blades each one wields carving bloody swathes through the skies. The only thing noticeably impeding their butchery is a small group of beings that I identify as Diligences — Second Sphere angels tasked with guarding against and countering this exact type of infernal incursion, a duty visually exemplified in how their seven ornamented arms and blades make them appear almost angelic mirrors of the Sloths. While they number far less than any of the aforementioned units, they're the only ones present that seem capable of fighting the demonic battalion on relatively equal footing, their multitude of limbs allowing them to easily parry the glowing energy crescents that rip from the edge of the Sloths' weapons, even whilst they rapidly close in to amputate the demons' own arms.

...and yet, that hardly matters, because while the Sloths don't appear able to compete with the Diligences one-on-one, massacring their opposition doesn't actually look to be their primary aim here. Even as I watch another Sloth lose its hands, it leaps away from the Diligence responsible, appendages already regrowing, and rips a human soul from an Acceptance's grasp. Bisecting the angel almost as an afterthought, the demon dives towards a sigil far below, where a writhing red fog is already beginning to form... and as it plunges down into the blood-like haze, the Sloth abruptly drops out of Purgatorio entirely. An instant later, it reappears, springing back onto the battlefield as though it never left.

Sans the soul it escaped with, that is, having already cast it down into Inferno.

I take all this in within the span of a few short moments, finding myself briefly struck speechless by the sight. I- I don't understand. With the non-interference rule, this shouldn't even be possible, should it?! The Sloths are demons, they literally can't enter Paradiso...!

Except... they aren't actually in Paradiso, now are they? They're in Purgatorio, the center of the trinity, from which all three "proper" members of it are possible to affect simultaneously. I doubt that the demons would be able to follow the angels much further off the surface of the planet, where the line between Purgatorio and Paradiso grows so thin as to barely exist, but that clearly isn't stopping them here and now...

And worse, the souls that they're tearing down from Heaven aren't just human ones.

As if in demonstration of this, a Sloth suddenly launches itself towards a group of Affinities, nicking each one with a different sword as it cartwheels past them. Though none of the cuts bite deeply enough to kill, that arguably might have been preferable — instead, the Affinities scream as their feathers rapidly begin to blacken, the touch of each unholy edge awakening sins in beings that by nature can only be pure. As the corruption finishes twisting their bodies and spirits alike, the newly-turned demons screech and turn on their former comrades, while the Sloth that tainted them snatches up the souls they were protecting, one in each arm as it turns to flee-

Only to be obliterated by the swipe of a wind-sheathed ribbon as I pass through the former view portal, having hastily converted it to a physical one, and stride onto the battlefield myself.

I think it's long past time that someone stepped in here.

Before my presence has even been fully registered by those present, I raise one arm, palm facing upward, and allow magic to erupt from my fingertips and ribbons alike. Righteous ire overcoming any hesitance I might have, the streams of power fountain up into the sky like geysers, curving and spiraling around one another like a volley of graceful, ethereal fireworks.

Then they all abruptly collide with each other, and judgment in countless forms begins to fall from on high.

A thousand-foot tongue of ice and lightning abruptly whips one Sloth out of existence, while hundreds of white-hot miniature meteors rain down upon another in a targeted bombardment. Those same meteors continue on past their initial mark to slam into three other demons, even as several more find themselves harried by globules of pale white water that calcify their flesh on contact, followed by sudden bursts of screeching wind that shatter the malformed statues left behind. Curving lasers of omnicolored light streak across the sky, unerringly tracking their infernal quarries before spearing them straight through their long-decayed hearts.

In barely the blink of an eye, the vast majority of the ambush force has fallen, their bodies exploding into orbs of demonic essence that scatter across the sigils below. Witnessing this nigh-instant eradication, the remaining demons turn tail as one, more scarlet fog spreading underfoot as they attempt to flee back to Inferno for good this time-

*!-!-SHHHNG-!-!*

-only to run face-first into the angelic seal I replaced their own with on arrival, passage out of Purgatorio now utterly barred to them as a result.

To their credit, the surviving Sloths adjust to this revelation in a fraction of an instant. With escape no longer an option, they heft their blades like javelins and pitch them at the closest angels with enough force to render the weapons mere blurs, a clear last ditch attempt at accruing further casualties- but a flex of my will, and the hellish swords disintegrate into nothing mid-flight, becoming little more than dust on the wind.

...Christ, that was close. Probably should have made a point to do that first.

Grimacing at my own carelessness, I send out another, additional twist of intent, and the surrounding angels' weapons abruptly lift from their collective grasp. Turning towards the Sloths as one, they spear through the remaining demons in a pelting rain of celestial metal, ending the lives of the few that persisted.

An entire infernal engagement, settled and won in less than half a minute's time.

As the final Sloth falls to its knees and bursts into orbs, I can't help but feel a small stab of pity for the horde of demons, who undoubtedly weren't expecting to be done in by literal divine intervention. Only a small one though — given what they were attempting to do, and even succeeded at in part, that's all the sympathy I can truly muster for them at the moment.

For the angels who fell in battle, and the other, more figuratively "fallen" ones, however...

I glance about at the various bundles of halos scattered about the sky — at all that still exists of this particular conflict's casualties. No blood nor bodies remain, only solid rings of golden metal, strewn about the clouds like jewels... but no matter how pretty it may look, that doesn't change what happened here.

You are most magnanimous, Creator.

I turn to the Hosanna, who again appears to have trailed along after me, this time through the portal I forgot to close. The Throne's words seem to open the floodgates, as the surviving angels flock towards me, seeking to express their immeasurable gratitude for my intervention… though, the surviving human souls seem significantly less thankful, as they're all slightly too busy having euphoric spasms right now.

Internally cursing at having forgotten about that, I shield my presence from human perception once more, making myself seem to simply be a light so bright as to obscure all at its center, while leaving my true form visible to the surrounding angels. The souls settle down and begin to recover, just as the Hosanna speaks up again.

We are one and all humbled by your might. it praises me, falling to one figurative knee. Truly, you are just as magnificent now as you were millennia prior.

I'm not, and I've no doubt the unicorn-like angel knows that on some level, but I can't really bring myself to care all that much at the moment.

These ambushes are commonplace? I ask, despite already knowing the answer.

The Hosanna inclines its head, though the marble face on its back remains unchanged.

They have occurred at semi-regular intervals ever since your sealing. it replies. Countless angels have been lost to similar infernal transgressions.

…I see.

The Hosanna begins to say something else, but I'm no longer listening. Ignoring it, as well as all the other angels still trying to speak to me, I float upwards over the battlefield, an idea rapidly beginning to take shape in my mind.

I may not be fully, or really even mostly aligned with the goals of Paradiso at large right now, but preventing as many souls as possible from being dragged down into Inferno is perhaps the one topic we can unquestionably agree upon. However, given what I just witnessed, it seems fairly clear to me that the angels are currently failing on that front, at least in the context of this particular style of demonic assault. I suppose I can't really blame them for that — between the Sloths' mobility, tactics, and skill, combined with their ability to turn angels against each other with the mere touch of a blade, they make for a nigh-on impossible enemy to reliably counter. The Diligences weren't doing a terrible job of it, being more than capable of holding their own, but they couldn't keep the Sloths from simply refusing to engage with them, allowing the demons to wreak havoc on those less-powerful angels who simply didn't have the means to effectively resist or escape them. Ultimately, had they possessed some method by which to keep the Sloths pinned down, or to force the demons in question to actually focus on them, I see no real reason the Diligences couldn't have won that fight on their own.

So that's exactly what I'm going to try and grant them.

Light spills from my fingertips and begins to pool like liquid between them, the details flickering through my mind already beginning to mold and shape its form. A multitude of eyes, to better keep track of a battle raging around them. Encompassing plates of layered angelic armor, strong enough to turn the touch of any tainted blade. A whip... no, a chain? Something long and swift, with which to restrain enemies from afar, or pull them across a battlefield in an instant...

A barely-conscious thought opens up another portal, this one straight to the armory of the Immortal Forge. A mental probe locates the closest existing match to my unspoken requirements — a pair of arm-mounted flail maces, typically installed upon Urbane and Gravitas — and floats several dozen of them through the portal, which I immediately go about altering to better suit my purposes. The metal of each mace melts and reforms into a many-fingered claw, designed to grasp and latch onto anything it touches, while excess steel hardens into new links that more than double the length of each chain, sacrificing size and striking power for range and tensile strength. A considerable amount of metal still ends up left over from each one, but this too is according to plan, as the surplus splits off and forms into an exact copy of each newly-made weapon, doubling the number of armaments present.

An urge tugs at me from somewhere within — the form is nearly set, but still requires a concept to bind itself to. Some portion of the faith that brings about creation, through which to define its being. A designation, a name, by which its prayers may be spoken...

A word rises to the forefront of my mind, quickly seeping into my sculpted mass of light and causing it to shine even brighter. In the next moment, sinew and muscle begin to build beneath gleaming gold metal and pure white marble, while finer details start carving themselves into existence practically of their own accord.

I smile. Excellent. Now I merely need to imbue the form with life... and I know just where to get it from.

The halos scattered across the sky abruptly surge towards me, the solidified essence of those angels who fell in battle becoming a melting tornado of gold which pours itself down into the empty template I hold within my palms. It takes to the form like ink to paper, filling its limbs with untold strength and imprinting my will upon its being — yet to my surprise, the construct remains inert, still naught but an unmoving, unthinking cast. Something is still missing...

In a sudden flash of insight, it comes to me — the halos possessed the life essence of the departed angels, but in death, lost the core element that kept each life burning. Thus to finalize this design, to realize this creation, I simply require new cores.

In which case...

I look out upon the masses still gathered far below — at those scattered human spirits that remained untouched by the Sloths. Mentally reaching out to each and every one of them, I pose a single question, directly to the center of their beings.

Their silent assent is unanimous.

The guarding angels startle as the mostly-transparent shades rise from their grasps and stream towards me like a swarm of ghosts. Like the halos before them, they flow down into my unfinished creation, their souls sparking against the energy already contained within, igniting it into a roaring conflagration-

The light between my hands abruptly compresses and flashes, and a massive shock wave bursts forth from it, washing over all present like the birth of a tiny supernova. In the same moment, my design becomes fully manifest, and a fleet of Devotions springs forth from between my fingers, riding the ripple of their own creation outwards into the skies.

GE OECRIMI G, DRILPA QAAL
(We thank you, oh Creator!)

I let the words of Paradiso's newest angels slide off me, saying nothing to them in return — I don't need to, as they're already intrinsically aware of what I made them for, and the duty I wish for them to fulfill. Taking up their weapons and gliding down to join the angels below, who themselves are now busily vacillating between worship and shock, the Devotions take their place at the side of the Diligences, paired with them forevermore.

With the task I set myself to now complete, something seems to shift within me, the abnormal focus I felt during the process falling away from my mind. As it vanishes, the fact of what I just did catches up with me, and-

Okay, what the hell was that? It was like the moment I fully committed to the idea, auto-pilot suddenly engaged, and I just... did it, somehow. I won't call it a fugue state, since I'm pretty sure I was still in control of myself during that, but how did I even know how to do any of what I just did? I mean, I'd blame the Right Eye, but... honestly, I don't think I should, because it felt more like I was going through all that by memory than anything else. A side effect from having just reabsorbed a piece of Jubileus...?

I frown, caught somewhere between being unsettled, proud, and disappointed in myself. Proud, because that actually went better than expected, and I'm genuinely pretty pleased with the result, yet disappointed, because even if I did it while in a sort of "creative trance", I still ultimately chose to resort to Paradiso's own methods... and in doing so, essentially gave them my implicit approval.

How very hypocritical of me.

I shake my head, ribbons undulating slightly with the motion. Regardless, I do still feel I did something good here. At the very least, I'm quite certain this fate is better than what the Sloths intended for those souls — better than what they likely would have been used for had they actually made it to the Celestial Refinery, for that matter. It's not something I wish to repeat until I've gotten my thoughts more in order, both about the angel conversion process and Paradiso just in general, but I don't think I can truly bring myself to regret it either.

Shifting my attention back to more external matters, I silently note that while I used up the halos in creating the Devotions, the orbs left behind by the Sloths — as well as the angels that they tainted — still persist. Summoning them to my palm, I have the gem-like objects swirl upwards and spiral over my fingers, where I regard them with a curious, but critical eye.

Now, what to do with these... I don't suppose tainted angelic essence can be converted back into its original form? Or that demonic essence can be purified just in general, for that matter? Even like this, they should fundamentally be the same thing, should they not?

I ask, and am slightly surprised by the answer I receive — though theoretically possible, Paradiso has never attempted such simply on principle, and so the process is seen throughout Heaven as being one-way only. Which means...

My thoughts flash back to the Sloths' blades.

It's hardly my highest priority at the moment... but I wonder. If the process can be reversed, then perhaps-

A sound like that of a struck church bell, not entirely unlike the resonating gong I created upon my arrival to the Celestial Refinery, suddenly rings out from just below me. I turn towards it, just in time to witness the abrupt arrival of Ethos, Pathos, and Logos — the Seraphim responsible for conveying messages directly to God, as well as the rest of Paradiso's highest. In spite of my instant, eye-granted familiarity with the angels, the sight of their trio of conjoined bodies, ever twisting around each other in perfectly symmetrical, yet utterly surrealistic patterns, still instinctively brings me pause.

Oh BELOVED Jubileus, they speak, one after the other, each unnaturally-melodious word emerging from a different mouth, the VISUS humbly request AN audience.

...it's just one thing after another today, isn't it?