The tower with its bright red ping is a glare to Cyth, still seated outside the border of the city. It marks the greatest concentration of cultist activity in the city, there in the heart of business. Cyth leans above the city’s rooftops as they inspect the structure, noting its substantial size and the work happening all around it. As their head hovers in the sky, they are met with panicked screams and blaring traffic immediately beneath them, as citizens react to this destructive angel overseeing their community. The worry and chaos annoys Cyth; they’re here to improve society, yet so many despise their presence.

Cyth makes their decision with little debate. After a second close look of the corporate building, they raise their hand and take it to hang just over the peak. The flat palm is too wide to destroy just the target, so two digits are selected instead to isolate the damage. Mobs of people rush away from Cyth’s choice, as though the shadow of their fingers was a spotlight meant to be avoided. It was very true, for those fingers are an unstoppable weapon, armed and aimed at Cyth’s enemy.

The fingertips crash through the roof; Cyth detects a small pop as the building gives in, but the humans below flinch from a disturbing explosion and cry out in fear. Splinters are made of the top floor and the machinery that occupied it, much of it crumbling down the walls and onto the streets. The windows of the highest floors almost immediately blow out all together as the infrastructure of the building bends under the fingers’ weight. With so little resistance to their attack, Cyth proceeds with the demolition, even as they spot employees of all levels fleeing from all exits. The fingers split the building in half as they drive through its middle, cracking open floor after floor with those familiar pops. An audience forms, both at the street level and from the neighboring buildings, to awe at the devastation the angel has conjured -- they are kept at a distance by military police, who have since abandoned any hope of keeping a sense of peace. Their weapons do not fire at Cyth as they flatten the corporate building, the dust of such demolition flooding the roads as thick clouds.

Where there had once been a proud tower in the center of the city was now a heap of smoking scrap that spilled out onto the streets encircling it. The two fingers that sentenced the structure to doom remain fiercely positioned in the wreckage, expressionless and statue-like, standing as though it was to replace the building that was originally there. Cyth swirls their fingers through the debris, collapsing any remaining composition there may have been. The fingers are then removed and rubbed together so that loose debris caught under their nails is removed, sprinkled down onto other roofs. The attack is over as suddenly as it had begun.

Cyth straightens their posture and pings the city again, this time detecting human life rather than cultist activity. The death toll of their attack reaches several hundred, but the numbers do not phase Cyth. What they look for in particular is life inside the rubble, of which rescue workers have rushed to in an effort to save any survivors. Cyth has no intention on causing additional deaths, but they are invested in locating any devils among the people. As celestials similar to angels, devils are capable of disguises and hypnotism which enables them to manipulate and infiltrate human society. Assuming the cultists were properly led by a devil, then it was unlikely this straightforward assault had killed the ringleader. This ping for life would help Cyth determine if anyone had unnaturally survived the attack, and thus revealed themselves as supernatural.

For a moment, Cyth’s eyes close, but they open again with a spark. “Ah. So I was correct.” They lean over the city again, once more gazing down at where the building once stood. According to their ping, there was reason to believe a devil was indeed amongst the stragglers, trapped deep under the debris. It was vital that the devil be apprehended, lest they escape and regroup their efforts at another time.

But filtering through the debris to find a normal-sized body would be tedious. It was impossible to pinpoint where this devil was, and any sane devil would use tricks to keep themselves hidden. A different angle would need to be taken in order to assure the devil’s defeat, and so Cyth considers altering their size to something more fitting. A smaller scale would certainly make them more vulnerable, but it would allow them to precisely get to where they wanted to be. Of course, as an angel, there was little that could pose a genuine threat, but it was worthwhile to be cautious with devils and cultists.

With time ticking, Cyth makes a choice. Before the devil can sneak away, Cyth changes size to that of…

--- 200 feet, similar to the surrounding buildings.

 --- 25 feet, for the most precise search possible.

--- 800 feet, their current height; safer, but less effective.

There was no mistaking that a devil’s influence was hidden somewhere within the building’s ruins. The ping had been too strong, and it was the perfect position for a devil to maintain control over operations. Confident they would find their target, Cyth points to an empty intersection in front of the smoldering debris. Their long finger jabs into the pavement and creates a crater in the smoke-filled ,road, acting as their landing space. Most crowds had fled an adequate distance from the destruction, but Cyth mentally prepared themself for the inevitable interaction with humankind. To take such a small form was to invite some sort of backlash from the mobs, but over hundreds and hundreds of years, Cyth knew better than to be ambushed by human emotion.

A glow takes over their body like a curtain. Wind swirls as holy magic concentrates around Cyth, wrapping their body with shapeshifting power. Before the light claims their face, they close their eyes and breathe. It happens instantly for them, so that when their eyes open next, they see how the world has been reshaped. Standing in the exact area the finger had claimed, Cyth is now a fraction of their former gargantuan size. At this new height, they are still a giant compared to any human, rivaling the tallness of street lights and telephone poles. Onlookers that had turned their gaze away from the magical light are now agasp at the development, having witnessed their overruler shrink down to such a tamer, more reasonable scale.

Cyth immediately continues towards the field of ruins. Their footsteps swing past and over the rows of abandoned cars before their feet crunch into the jagged remains of the building. At no moment does it phase them to be standing where their finger once occupied, unbothered by the level of destruction they so casually caused. They look at their own handiwork with a hint of disgust; it was fun and quick to crumble the tower down to its base, but the result was a wasteland that had to be waded and worked through in order to find their target. A beige smoke pollutes the air, dust that billowed into a fog after the meteoric attack. It’s enough to make Cyth cough and nearly regret taking such a small form.

Fortunately, their current size still enables them sheer strength that no human can compete with. The largest chunks of debris had already been pushed aside earlier, but the leveled floors and walls still had to be broken into, and steel beams littered every path, requiring Cyth to lift and toss them aside. Beneath their feet, the misshapen ground is flattened by their weight, their bare soles magically resistant to any obstructions that would otherwise pain them. Their holy powers allow them to have a leisurely search through the devastated environment, but as many angels do, Cyth detests physical labor, and that was evident in their grunting, their sighing, their blank expression.

The first minutes of Cyth’s search had been uneventful, but they then sensed a presence on the approach. Not just one person, but multiple people -- humans from the crowd, encroaching onto the ruins. From their knelt position, Cyth turned their head and back to the boundaries of the wastes. Not unexpectedly, rescue workers were closing in for their own search for survivors. They brought with them large tools meant to upheave and shovel the debris, but Cyth already knew how little use they would be. Their two-fingered strike had wiped clean most life that had been in the building, but they sensed that a few humans had survived and were embedded in the wreckage. They would not interfere with the rescue workers and their noble goal; as long as they kept to themselves, Cyth had no reason to involve themself.

But just after turning back around from watching the rescue workers, Cyth felt the ground beneath them crumble and break. Gracelessly, the angel’s left leg plummets through a floor and into the depths of the ruins. The other legs falters to a knee, tripped by the surprise pitfall. The rest of the debris they’re situated on shifts and cracks under their immense weight, but manages to hold together. The drop may have startled Cyth, but what intrigues them is the discovery of such emptiness lying underneath them. A swing of their submerged foot found plenty of space hidden in the destruction, an entire room or chamber that had survived the demolition. Was it by happenstance that such a room had endured the chaos, or was it by design? Cyth asked themself as much as they ripped their leg free from the floor, resulting in a narrow hole that peered into the darkness.

“If I was a devil…” Cyth muttered to themself as they got onto their knees where the hole had been made. They clear a space around themself, then begin prying open the floor, which is in fact a knocked-down wall buried under a layer of concrete and steel. Progress is quick with such raw power, and soon an opening wide enough for the angel is created. The darkness within is still too thick to gaze into, but Cyth immediately detects a flicker of life, a taste of something wicked. If not a devil, then certainly something just as bad had to lie within.

Before diving in, however, multiple shouts reach Cyth which makes them hesitate. They turn back towards the rescue workers with an unamused expression, only lazily twisting their back without getting off their knees. A collection of seven or so humans march over uneven levels of debris to approach Cyth, maintaining a fair distance from them. They dress in bright, durable uniforms and boots meant for scrounging through such ruins, and they don masks for breathing in the smoky, gas-ridden air. Despite this, their gestures and words are quite clear; they want Cyth to cease, a thought that makes Cyth scoff under their breath.

“And after I had permitted you to do your business…” Cyth remarks quietly. They raise their head but stay where they are seated, casting a glare down onto the most frontward human of the group. It is only that one that is bold enough to continue waving and speaking after having the titan’s attention, a trait that earns Cyth’s curiosity if nothing else. “I am an angel at work,” they first warn, “and I may have stumbled upon what I am looking for. Why do you disrupt me?”

“That’s why we came! W-We saw you trip into something!” the leading rescue worker announces, his hands cupped over the filtered mouthpiece of his mask. “There could be survivors there! Let us through first! We could save lives, even just one!”

Cyth’s gaze narrows on this man. The others behind him rally in support and their collective urges forward, aggressively wanting to search the area. Cyth ponders how to respond, considering as well that it’s possible the life they detect is that of civilians. It would be a lie to tell them that no signs of life are down the hole, but that would also swiftly dismiss the group -- assuming the group believed them. Humans, Cyth had to remind themself, were so often irrational little creatures, and predicting how they’ll react to celestial direction was never consistent.

“Please! Someone could be dying, we need to get in!” the man continues. His fists coil and swing at his sides, “Dammit, you’ve killed so many already…! Let us look, please, and you can go back to your damn search!”

Cyth sighs and glances at the hole under them. In order to proceed quickly, they have to answer the plight of these humans. They rise to their feet, displaying their power without even a flick of their wrist, their size alone diminishing the riled energy of the rescue workers. As they fret backwards away from the titan, Cyth provides them their answer…

--- Ignore the rescue workers and enter the buried chamber.

--- Allow them to locate survivors while searching elsewhere for the devil.

--- Lie and explain to them that there are no survivors to be found.

--- Help find survivors so that the rescue workers can be dismissed.

--- Force them away using celestial magic.

Cyth looks away from the rescue workers and back into the chamber they had discovered. There is a long pause as they ponder their options, weighing the importance of locating a devil and the value of their relationship with humans. They have half a mind to make a strike against the workers, to scare them off back into their own business, but they worry, too, that doing so would push the limits of humanity’s worship. Maintaining some level of trust between Heaven and humans, all angels knew, was as vital as keeping Hell warded. Losing followers due to careless devil hunting could prove just as disastrous as allowing the devils to have done as they pleased.

“Angel! Listen to us and move!” the man barks again, his voice blasting through a megaphone. It’s needed in order to speak over the ambulance sirens and the general commotion. Cyth does not look at him, their eyes still aimed into the hole. “Please! We need to save anyone we can--”

“In the center,” Cyth interrupts, her arm pointing towards the middle of all the destruction, “I can sense life, fighting to survive. If you wish to help the most people possible, you should begin there.” Cyth stands to their full height, the rubble under their feet snapping and cracking as they take a stance to overlook the rescue workers. Rather than have the same stoic expression, they instead express sympathy towards the humans they have troubled. “I came here because of devil activity, and I sense one deep into this tunnel. For your own safety, you must do your work elsewhere.”

“And why should we believe you?!” the man asks, an arm tossed to one side in anger. “It was you that caused this! You, dammit! Thousands are dead because of you!”

Cyth closes their eyes, defending themselves from arguments they had heard hundreds of times from those affected by celestial involvement. There was no convincing humans that they weren’t as important as their egos lead them to believe, and there was certainly no point in trying now. Though most angels were totally callous to the plights of humanity, Cyth could at least shed some empathy for them and their dire situations, how little they could do in a universe that was so much grander than them. A smile nearly took over their lips as they thought of humans and their efforts, still shadowing the rescue workers that had neared them.

“My methods were rushed, I admit,” Cyth explains. They put a hand softly over their chest, a gesture of genuinity. “But this research is important. Your interference could cost Heaven dearly.”

The megaphone droops away from his mouth. “You fucking celestials… This is all a joke to you…!” The man stomps and walks closer to the giant. He fumes and projects his voice again, “Let us in there! Let’s see for ourselves, huh!”

“You.” Cyth points at the man, the invisible weight of which forces him to a halt. “What is your name?”

The man trembles, his confidence having been shaken. “M-My-- What’s my name to you? Don’t you angels know this?!”

Cyth shakes their head. “We are not omniscient in this way. To introduce myself, you may call me Cyth.”

The man mumbles something in a low growl, but his attitude subtly shifts. He looks back at his team, then to the wasteland they all reside in. The wailing of sirens and the clouds of smoke push him to make a decision. “... My name’s Treavor. Is that a promise that you’ll help us out?”

“Only as much as you promise to leave me be afterwards.”

“Well, Cyth, I can’t leave an area go uninspected. I need to send someone down there.”

Cyth sighs and props an arm onto their hip. “Then do so yourself,” they suggest, their shoulders perked. “In the meantime, I will help where I can. Is this agreeable?”

Treavor nods and crosses his arms. “Fine. If that’s how it has to be.”

Cyth is the first to move after the discussion is settled, surprising the humans with how quickly they are to get going. With a ping for life already in progress, the angel waves at the other rescue workers to guide them into the middle. Their legs breeze past them in just a couple steps, stopping at where a large mound of debris had piled together. Before other workers can organize around them, Cyth right away begins digging into the cluster, using their long arms to unload heaps of rubble at a time and have tossed out of the way. The hill of materials slips apart section by section, making a mockery of the machines and methods the rescue workers intended to use. Within moments, Cyth uncovers a den of six people huddled together, covered in dust and weak from injuries. Rescue workers swarm in without waiting for permission, taking the victims into their arms and hoisting them out one at a time. Cyth supervises from their higher point of view, organizing the rescuer workers with what areas to begin digging in next and tearing down any obstacles that their attack on the building may have created.

The warmth of donating their power to save human lives is a distracting sensation for Cyth. Fifteen minutes pass without them realizing, not until after a batch of survivors is taken to the sidelines of the destruction. Only when they see the time displayed on a huge screen with the news do they decide to end their generosity. Without a word, they separate from the teams of rescue workers, digesting the oddity of their relationship. There were some that wished to thank the angel for their service, and others that still cursed their presence. Cyth takes it in stride as they return to the chamber, expecting to meet with Treavor.

But at the opening, no one greets them. Cyth peeks into the hole, but the same darkness is all to be found. In their attempt to not assume the worst, Cyth considers that Treavor may have already left, mixed back into the crowds of similarly-dressed rescuers. However, a ping for life informs them of an active essence under the rubble. Unless another human jumped in when they weren’t looking, it was very possible that it was Treavor making his dive into the debris.

Cyth perches at the hole, allowing a leg to dip into the shadows. Without further delay, they descend into the chamber, ducking their head in as they maneuver into the cramped space. Floors and furniture are blindly broken through as their feet find places to step down, and dust rustles through every crack. A single beam that Cyth steps through causes a minor collapse of the ceiling above, warning Cyth of dangers to come. The chamber and its passage could easily cave in with just a few careless motions.

And careless motions come naturally when moving about a dark, crumbling hall. Cyth’s feet finally discover a firm enough floor to stand upon, but all around them is shadowy walls. Only the light from above casts any illumination, revealing little other than bits of broken office chairs and desks.

Amidst the snap and crackle of debris as Cyth settled into position, they heard a distinct noise. It’s over before they can recognize it, like a fizzle or brief whistle. Something persists, like a constant flickering, but Cyth can barely make a direction of its source. With a devil potentially on the loose, it was appropriate to prepare for a magical counterattack, but it was just as likely to be a trap made exactly for them. Alternatively, Cyth realizes, it could be Treavor -- lost somewhere in the ruins and in need of assistance. Before descending any further, Cyth sorts out their own plan…

--- Cast magical light to inspect the chamber for clues.

--- Search for Treavor and find him before the devil does.

--- Locate the devil before they make an escape.

--- Clear out the rubble by growing giant where they stand.