Chapter 168: A Simple Case Of Smiting

Bela lets out a short, wistful breath, sighing as she watches a gathering of mortals descend into fear-fueled chaos around her.

Their small, tired, bruised faces gaze at her in abject horror before they tear off through the mud, screaming for the Great Mother.

Her mother.

"Sometimes," she sighs again, harder, "I hate dealing with mortals. Can you please stop screaming?" she pleads, then lifts one hand, and twirls it lazily through the air.

And a moment later, every single member of Vuvela and Vexena’s groups drops straight through their own shadows without warning, vanishing into the ground mid-stride, sinking straight through reality, and reappearing a heartbeat later in a tangled, groaning heap beside the carriages, right where Penelo has been anxiously tending Ka’Lula’s wounds.

Penelo takes one look at the newly arrived pile of battered bodies, slaps her paws to her heart and wails out in dismay. "My family! You’re all hurt!"

She springs into motion instantly, dropping to her knees beside Vuvi and pressing both pink-furred paws flat against her chest as soft, green nature magic begins stitching torn skin and bruised bone back together in slow, steady waves, pulsing through her body, her ears drooping with worry the entire time.

Bela strolls in after them at a far more leisurely pace, unbothered, unblemished by the mud trying and failing to stick to the hem of her impossibly white gown, stepping over groaning bodies like she’s crossing a garden path. Behind her, visible even from here, a jagged scar of flattened, smoking forest stretches clean through the treeline where Vexena and Hela had crashed through it minutes earlier, still smoldering faintly at the edges. She starts apologizing to everyone in earshot as she moves between the wounded like a nurse doing rounds.

"I am really, really sorry about the mess." she says, dragging her hand across Sera’s shoulders which promptly ease themselves down as divine healing magic floods her body. "My sisters get a little... enthusiastic when they’re excited. It’s a family trait, unfortunately. And they haven’t had a chance to let loose like this in ages." She groans, looking up with tired eyes as Hela streaks across the sky, her joyous shrieks audible for miles as she tosses blade after holy blade at Vexena, who parries each one with growing effort.

Bela smiles softly as she crouches beside Bilorial, who flinches back so hard he nearly falls over his own tail, scrambling backward through the mud.

"P-Please don’t kill me!" he blurts out on instinct, both hands raised in surrender. "I’m a good demon! I swear! Ask anyone!"

"I’m not here to kill you, my dear." Bela says gently, patient as a nursemaid, and simply presses her palms to his ruined shoulder.

A warm, golden light spreads outward from her fingers in slow, spiraling patterns. He gasps, eyes wild with awe as the already-festering wound knits itself closed with a soft, audible, satisfying pop~, muscle and bone reforming seamlessly beneath his healing skin.

Bilorial’s jaw falls open as he flexes the arm in complete disbelief, rolling the shoulder through its full range of motion like he doesn’t quite trust it yet.

"R-Remarkable!" he breathes. "Truly remarkable work! What’s the mechanism, exactly, m’lady? Matter manipulation? Cellular regeneration, or perhaps—"

"I really don’t have time to explain divine magic to you right now, dear." Bela chuckles softly. "But I’m glad you’re feeling better."

"I feel amazing." The demon general grins, and bows deeply, "Truly. Thank you for this."

"Me next, please!" Xenara groans from the ground beside him, still missing three of her legs, dragging herself half upright by the ones she has left, remaining claws scrabbling for purchase in the mud. "Please, Saint Sister. I really liked those legs. I have grown quite attached to them, in fact."

"Leave it to me!" Mika yells out as she drops down out of nowhere in a flash of light with a soft ding~, wings snapping shut behind her, halo buzzing brightly, kneeling beside Xenara and getting straight to work, humming cheerfully off-key as three fresh limbs knit themselves back into place one at a time, little joints clicking softly into their sockets.

She pats Xenara’s abdomen affectionately mid-heal, entirely too pleased with herself for someone who’d been unconscious for most of the battle. "So... I miss anything good? Oh... hi, Bela... B-B-BELA!?!?"

"You missed me holding a shield until I passed out cold in the mud," Veena mutters from where she’s slumped against a wheel, arms crossed, still visibly annoyed about the whole day. "Which is what happens when someone charges face-first into an enemy barrier instead of waiting for backup."

"O-okay, b-but—" Mika stutters, eyes never leaving the Saint Sister.

"Mika, right?" Bela smiles, her own eyes clearly screaming at the angel to say nothing. To anyone. Or else. "Good to see you."

"Yes. Right. Of course." Mika says flatly, looking over Bela’s gown. "...S-Saint Sister?"

Bela grins and nods approvingly.

"They just showed up... for Pip." Veena says, sneering into the distance where the sounds of Vexena and Eris’s clashes with the other two Saint Sisters still ring out across the battlefield. "And to kick my mother’s ass while they’re here, apparently."

Bela winces, though she’s entirely unmoved by the accusation. "In their defense, they do get a little excited."

Nela drops out of the sky minutes later, landing with barely a sound despite her speed, cradling a half-unconscious, badly battered and bleeding body against her chest like an oversized, over-played-with doll. Her earlier delight gives way entirely to genuine, wide-eyed worry. She sets a deliriously mumbling Eris gently down at Bela’s feet and drops to her knees beside her, brushing bloodied hair back from her twitching face with trembling fingers.

"I went a little overboard," Nela cries, voice cracking. "I’m so sorry, I really am, please, heal her."

Bela doesn’t hesitate. She kneels and lays both hands over Eris’s chest, golden light spreading fast, mending cracked ribs and torn muscles in seconds.

Eris jerks upright moments later with a sharp, startled gasp, blinking around at the wreckage of the battlefield, utterly disoriented.

Until her eyes land on Nela.

Nela grabs her hand immediately, squeezing it tight, radiating genuine concern. "I’m so sorry! For going overboard. I just... I haven’t had that much fun in eons. You’re an amazing fighter!"

Eris’s mouth falls open. She nods, slow and vigilant, and edges backward with a visible shudder, gently but firmly reclaiming her hand and pressing it to her quivering lips.

"You okay, Lady Eris?" Bilorial asks, still flexing his newly mended shoulder. "Does it still hurt?"

Eris shakes her head slowly, staring into the distance unblinking, one hand still pressed flat over her mended ribs, already having traumatic flashbacks of the fight that ended just minutes ago, the thousand-yard stare of someone who’s just had their entire understanding of their own strength quietly, catastrophically dismantled in less than twenty minutes.

"N-No. I feel..." Eris breathes, voice shaking ever so slightly, "...like I fought a god. And lost. Very badly."

Beside her, Nela is already tugging at her sleeve again, apologizing for the third time, and Eris flinches at the touch like it might actually set her on fire.