I created the Old Gods and Outer Gods in America.

The footage of Elijah taking off was simultaneously recorded by 173 mobile phones.

The flapping of the three wings caused the airflow to overturn the parasols along the edge of the square, and several people who were holding their phones too close were pushed back by the wind pressure.

The barrage of comments exploded in live streams around the world.

"He really went."

"No way, that's the red zone!"

"What are angels afraid of about viruses? Wake up."

Elijah didn't see the comments, but he knew the whole world was watching, and he didn't care.

......

The 7th Special Emergency Brigade of the Federal Government, codenamed "Iron Curtain".

The purpose of this unit is to test the strength of the Extraordinary before the arrival of the two "Punishment Birds" and "Big Birds," minimizing the damage taken by them.

It has a strength of 2,400 personnel, six combat battalions, and is equipped with the highest level of firepower currently in service with the Federal Army.

Twelve M1A3 main battle tanks, thirty-six heavy infantry fighting vehicles, and eight AH-64E attack helicopters.

At this moment, the 420 members of the Third Combat Battalion of the "Iron Curtain" are completing the final cleanup in the infected area.

Lieutenant Colonel Morrison, the battalion commander, crouched behind an infantry fighting vehicle, peering through his goggles at the last group of infected being suppressed on the road ahead. Two hours ago, those things were alive; now they were covered in dark red, mycelial protrusions, their movements somewhere between wild beasts and insects.

"B Company reports: Area 3 has been cleaned up; no residual infected individuals found."

"Company C confirms that the isolation wall is intact and undamaged."

Morrison pressed the communicator: "All personnel gather and move to the quarantine point according to the evacuation route. Everyone must have their seals checked and undergo three rounds of disinfection before leaving."

He stood up and looked around.

"Walk."

More than 400 people began to evacuate in an orderly manner, with infantry fighting vehicles leading the way, followed by infantry in two columns, and armed helicopters circling overhead to provide aerial surveillance.

The formation was standard, the rhythm was stable, and the tactical withdrawal was textbook-perfect.

It took them forty minutes to cross the three-kilometer-long infected zone. Ahead lay the cordon, with disinfection stations, quarantine tents, and the long-awaited medical team all on the other side of the line.

Morrison saw the police tape and breathed a sigh of relief.

Then something fell from the sky.

No, just one person.

With its three wings folded, a boy who looked to be under fifteen years old landed steadily on the open ground between the cordon and the troops.

The white wings shimmered unrealistically in the sunlight.

Elijah.

That angel.

The entire battalion of over four hundred men stopped in their tracks at the same time.

The silence lasted for about two seconds. Then Morrison heard a suppressed cheer erupt behind him.

"Fuck, it's an angel!"

"That one from the live stream! It's here!"

"We're saved, brothers!"

Morrison himself felt a bit more relaxed.

Dealing with infected beings these days has put us on edge. Everyone is worried about whether they will become one of those things. Now that an extraordinary being is standing in front of us, the sense of security that tanks and helicopters can't provide is something that can't be given by humans.

He took a few steps forward, preparing to conduct a brief handover as the battalion commander.

"Hello, I am..."

Elijah interrupted him, his voice not loud, but it sent chills down the spines of everyone present.

"You have been infected by the demons."

Morrison's smile froze on his face.

What?

Before his brain could process the meaning of the sentence, he caught a white arc in his peripheral vision.

Elijah's right wing unfurled, the wingtip slicing through the air at such speed that it was only visible as a white line to the naked eye. The soldier standing two meters to Morrison's right rear, Private Henry Cole, had his head fly off cleanly from the neck up.

The helmet and head spun twice in the air before landing on the ground, rolling half a meter.

Blood gushed from the neck cavity, reaching a height of over one meter.

The headless body remained standing, still gripping the rifle in its hand, before finally collapsing a full second later.

The entire room fell silent.

Elijah bent down and picked up the head casually, as if picking up a ball.

He used two fingers to lift Cole's helmet visor.

"look."

Cole's face was exposed to the light, and a fine patch of dark red rash covered his right cheek and behind his ear.

Elijah turned the head toward Morrison, and toward everyone.

"You want to bring the incubation period symptoms of the demon virus out into the world?"

Morrison opened his mouth.

He was an officer in the "Iron Curtain" and had received specialized training in dealing with supernatural events.

The training manual states that when facing an uncontrollable supernatural being, the primary principle is "do not provoke the other party."

But the training manual doesn't mention this situation: an angel kills your soldiers and then tells you that you're all finished.

Morrison roared hoarsely, "There are 421 men in the entire battalion, you couldn't possibly..."

"Four hundred and twenty," Elijah corrected him.

Morrison closed his eyes.

"Fire," he heard himself say.

The entire battalion's guns were pointed at the boy.

Elijah sighed.

With all three wings deployed simultaneously, their wingspan covered the entire street.

Hell on earth has begun.

The bullet hit the wing and bounced off, the ricocheting bullets flying around and injuring their own men instead.

The infantry fighting vehicle's main gun fired three shots. Two were deflected by the wing surfaces, and one hit Elijah's left wing, leaving a shallow dent that healed after three seconds.

The human body has no resistance against the wing blades.

Bulletproof vests, helmets, and tactical armor are all made of paper.

The blood mist filled the air, creating a nauseating smell.

Morrison watched as his men fell one by one.

Some people were screaming, some were begging for mercy, and some were trying to escape, but it was no use; the angels were simply too fast.

An armed helicopter attempted to pull away, but the airflow from Elijah's wings slammed it into a nearby building, and the explosion illuminated half the street.

Seven minutes.

From the moment the first head fell to the moment the last gunshot rang out, a total of seven minutes elapsed.

Morrison was the last one.

He leaned against the wreckage of the infantry fighting vehicle, his chest armor shattered, fragments embedded in his ribs. He glanced down at the inside of his wrist, where a small patch of dark red rash lay quietly.

"You're right," Morrison said.

Elijah stood before him, covered in blood, his expression calm.

"I know."

The wings fell.

silence.

Elijah stood in the middle of the street littered with corpses and took a deep breath.

Then, a violent tearing sensation came from his back, and a fourth wing appeared!

He stretched his newly grown wings, feeling the surge of power within him.

Then he quickly noticed.

About thirty centimeters to the left front, an insect is flying.

Something's wrong with this bug.

Its flight path was too deliberate; it wasn't the kind of random drifting, but rather a purposeful circling around him.

Elijah turned his head and stared at the insect.

Hundreds of kilometers away, Jon felt a chill run down his spine upon witnessing this scene.

However, they quickly calmed down.

What can we do if we've been discovered?

At worst, I'll give you this bug.