In days far off, full of brightness and innocence and wonder for the future, a young child had watched a movie called Indiana Jones.  At least, he watched it with Japanese subtitles, but it did not detract from the experience in the slightest.  More than once in the course of the viewing little Souta had lost track of what was happening in the movie as he, filled with excitement, leaped to his feet to sling imaginary whips, leap between the couches and coffee table as though they were boulders, and slid beneath pretend doors just before they closed.  For what seemed like the longest time afterward, any time the Hyobanshis want on a family vacation and visited some ancient site in a foreign land, Souta prowled around the ruins in search of treasure, constantly scanning for traps, and inventing his own obstacle courses, much to the admonishment of his parents and older sister.

Those days had long passed, but Souta felt echoes of them now as he meandered through the ruins, a short distance apart from either Lily or Fenn.  After all, these walls and floor could very well be filled with traps.  Souta hoped they weren't.  Last he checked, he had no handy whip, lifetime of athleticism, or plot armor.  When all possible trails but one were cut off and the time came to leave this patch of ruins behind, the smith did not dilly-dally.  He hotfooted it after the hellhound, the way to their goal restored.

Personally, Souta didn't know what he was expected to do when the trio arrived.  Last time, the irritating archwatcher Panoptos worked on his own to protect the seal, but this time the smith had the mixed blessing of his nonpresence.  Perhaps once he, Lily, and Fenn secured the seal -for he did not doubt there would be adversity to prevent its acquisition- the Council would send in someone or something to seal the deal.  Without much to go on, he redirected his focus toward the present, and the path that lay ahead.  Through the jungle extended what might have been a thoroughfare in days of yore, and down that jungle-lined lane the agents of the Charred Council strode.

For a moment Souta admired the great archway, which had somehow survived the test of time to stand to this day, but when unknown voices reached him through the warm breeze, all thoughts of the scenery were lost.  After the trio got into cover, he hazarded a peek through a crack in the stonework.  [i]Angels.[/i]  Were it not for the ambush earlier, he might have invoked Gilgamesh Co.'s policy of neutrality with the Army of Light and tried to speak to these warriors, but now such an idea seemed neither appropriate nor productive.  After a few moments, more angels arrived on the scene, and they began to speak.  Unable to hear or see exactly what was going on, Souta pressed himself against the barrier and craned his neck to see through, only to dislodge a lump of loose stone and knock it to the ground.  Though the noise was muffled in the leaf litter, it still managed to spook the nearest angel.  Souta winced, but it didn't seem that the angel had detected them.  Still, they didn't seem very happy, and any minute they might start shelling the shrubbery with those handheld cannons.  The smith, seeing the advantages of both eliminating the threat and a stealthy retreat but not a foolhardy charge into action, waited to see what his allies would do.  He got the feeling, though, that beings with far greater innate power than he would gravitate toward one option in particular.  With this in mind, he summoned Deluge to his hand.