"Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good."
— Romans 12:21
The storm above Zion District-7 was not natural.
Saral stood atop the sanctuary's crumbling rooftop, her cloak fluttering as thunder rumbled in the heavens. Beside her, Abraham adjusted the suppressor core on his gauntlet. Even with the limiter active, energy pulsed from his body like heatwaves from the sun.
The sky cracked open.
Black drones—shaped like vultures—descended from the clouds in spiraling formations. They bore the insignia of the Black Host, an elite assassination unit deployed only under Obsidian Council's direct command.
Abraham narrowed his eyes. "They're here for me."
Saral nodded. "Then we protect the city. Together."
---
The Attack Begins
The first drone dove, firing laser rounds toward the sanctuary. Abraham raised his arm, and a radiant shield—tinged with golden scripture—flared to life. The bullets evaporated before reaching them.
"Your barrier is divine-coded," Saral gasped. "That's... never been seen since the First Era."
He didn't respond. His body moved on instinct now—half training, half something deeper. Righteous fury.
Abraham launched forward, springing from rooftop to rooftop. With a swing of his arm, his gauntlet projected a glowing blade—a cross-shaped saber of pure ExoLight. With each strike, he felled another drone. Each kill sent data pulses back to Obsidian Command.
But the drones weren't the real threat.
They were bait.
---
Enter: Widow Seraphim
From the shadows of a descending drop ship stepped a cloaked woman in silver armor—her eyes burning violet, her voice smooth like oil over ice.
"Saint of Flame," she purred, "you shouldn't exist."
Abraham stopped mid-jump. He sensed it immediately: she wasn't human. Not fully.
"Who are you?"
"I am the Left Hand of NEPHIL-A. Widow Seraphim. I terminate holy anomalies."
Without warning, she launched forward.
Her whip of nano-fibers lashed across the battlefield. Abraham blocked just in time, but the sheer force sent him skidding across the ground, breaking stone.
Saral leapt in, dual pistols blazing. Each bullet was laced with disruptor cores—but Seraphim twisted her body like a wraith, dodging them midair.
"You're both impressive," Seraphim smiled. "But I don't need to defeat you."
She held up a single black disc. "I just need to erase your memories."
The device glowed.
---
Flashback Sequence Triggered
Suddenly, Abraham dropped to his knees. Visions flooded his mind—his childhood in the village, a boy on a hill looking at stars… a burning tree… a hand reaching down from heaven. He saw his mother's face, hidden all these years.
She wasn't just a villager.
She was a Saint.
And she had died protecting him.
"No," Abraham whispered, clutching his head. "Not now."
---
The Awakening
Saral screamed, "Abraham! Focus!"
In that moment, the suppressor core on his gauntlet shattered. Light exploded from within him like a nova. A glowing cross of flame appeared behind him, towering into the sky.
Seraphim froze.
Abraham stood up slowly, eyes no longer brown—but white-hot with radiance.
"I remember now," he said. "And I forgive you."
He raised his hand, and a wave of cleansing fire surged forward—not to kill, but to purge corruption. The flames consumed the device, destroyed the drones, and burned away the code infecting Seraphim's soul.
For the first time, she cried.
"I… remember heaven..."
She vanished.
---
Aftermath
The battle was over. The city below never knew what had happened above them.
Saral walked to Abraham, staring at the cracks in the rooftop, the holy flame still burning faintly in his palm.
"You've awakened the core of the ExoSaints," she whispered.
"But I don't want power," he said quietly. "I just want to protect what's good."
She nodded, placing a hand on his chest.
"Then that's why you were chosen."
As the night fell, a hidden satellite observed silently, sending a final encrypted message:
"He has awakened. Initiate Judgment Protocol."
---
End of Chapter 7