Egil looked downwards, to see how the crowd was doing. Some were still recovering. Some saw the angel and were struggling to get to ground and run.
The clergy had various reactions. Most notable was the 'summoner' who just sat with his legs folded, and his head in his palm... looking defeated.
Oddly, they were all looking sort of purple, and were limping. Egil looked at his own hands, seeing the same coloration. A full body bruise? Too much time passed to undo it. He tapped his forearm. No real pain. Just weird looking.
Another clergy member broke into a run... away from the angel... to Egil it was certainly an intimidating sight, but weren't these supposed to be 'the good guys?'
He cleared those thoughts and looked for Lindir and Anya on the bleachers. People were scrambling to get off, but the two badasses managed to get to the ground. Everything was still muffled, due to the ringing, so he couldn't really hear them; though they were both holding their heads.
The incubus appeared again, clasping Lindir's head. Ok, he's taken care of, which only leaves Anya. She was already walking towards the angel. Egil followed.
"Are we really doing this?" He couldn't even hear himself talk. Anya didn't appear to react.
His gaze went up again. 'Saviors of humanity.' He felt way in over his head on this one. He also didn't really expect it to be so... curvy... but then, the church didn't draw the angels as being faceless, or having horns... is this an angel?
The summoner cleric still had his face buried in his hands. About a foot away from him was a member of the king's guard on his knees. Praying? No wait. His hands were limp at his sides.
Anya noticed him too, and recoiled. Egil walked over. A knife handle protruded from the guard's neck. On the ground in front of him, a simple cross, drawn in blood on the stone. Was this a murder?
Egil knelt by him, looking at his hands. Two finger tips caked in blood. Suicide?
Egil got up, walking to the clergy member, positioning himself between him and the guard. Best not to distract him, while asking questions. Laying a hand on his shoulder, the clergyman looked up with a defeated expression.
Egil yelled, mostly to see if he could hear himself. Hearing was slowly coming back. "Is that an angel!?" He asked, pointing at the towering figure.
His dour expression shifted to the colossus and back. Then he confirmed with a nod.
Fuck! Admittedly, he was out of his depth by this point.
He looked back to check on Anya. She kept walking. Damnit! He jogged to catch up.
The ritual had occurred between where the angel's feet now stood. Speaking of the feet, at closer inspection, they appeared patterned with geometric shapes. They'd be extremely difficult to see from a distance. No toes. No clear ankle joint. He might as well have been looking at a boot. Come to think of it, the soles didn't curve in like a foot, but laid flat against the ground.
Anya was looking at the summoners' corpses. It looked like they were all immolated. Maybe it was his cynicism. Or, maybe he was finally becoming the monster that so many people accused him of being in the past.
When looking at the corpses, his mind filled in their stories: the less experienced recruits were beside themselves at the thought of executing a secret action of the overseer. The 'prayer' training might have caught them off guard, but they ran with it, becoming the summoner guild's sole angel specialists. Then the ritual killed them.
Egil was never involved, so he was essentially blocked from finding ways to ensure their safety. They probably would have rejected his help if he had offered. Jack and the overseer were probably both fully aware of the outcome.
