Emlyn’s eyes fluttered closed despite the uproar that Celeste was proclaiming next to him. The ritual had started and he could feel the tether to himself strengthen. There were others in the crowd behind Emlyn who seemed to have a similar effect to them. All were waiting for what was to come below. Some of the people were resistant, while others willingly gave themselves to the ‘priest’ performing the ceremony. As the first set of veins were opened, Emlyn inhaled deeply. His core as a homunculus was magical in nature. The machinery of a pocket watch drenched in virgin’s blood served as his heart, forever ticking onward thanks to magic. But giving Emlyn the essence of blood that comes from an innocent -comparatively for their race- person simply empowers him. And that was the whole point of the ritual. His power would grow, those who wished for souls would earn them. Those that wished for flesh and blood would gain it. Hell, even those beings who fed -or got off- on emotion would be sated. People were happy so long as those at the top stayed fed.<br/><br/>The ritual was complicated in preparation and simple in practice. The preparation required specific runes and ingredients left anonymous until a priest had fully broken to mental domination. It would be risky if Emlyn had not spent so much energy to ensure that no back-flow could happen. The execution was conversely as simple as harvesting various essences from the body. The easiest way to do so was torture and blood rites. A soul would be shackled as the body is mercilessly mangled and broken, before the throat and wrists would be ritualistically carved to drain through appropriate holes in the slab that were covered in runes. It was an effective system to say the least. Through giving most of the body to his subordinates, it allowed him to feed off of the most important essence while being able to give the appearance of providing miracles, despite the complete lack of magical prowess he possessed.<br/><br/>However, Emlyn was not enjoying the flow as much as he should have been because of the obviously young angel grabbing and begging at his leg. If she reached any further, there was little doubt she would grab hold of something she would not expect or wish to have in her hands, and the promise of that was entertaining, but her howls of protest were just getting to be too much. Without even looking at his prize, his hand lifted up and came cracking down across her face, not even giving her the courtesy of the palm. It stung and points where the knuckles connected whelped up and trickled tiny droplets of blood down her face. It held enough force behind it that a normal human would have had lasting damage. It was far beyond anything a mere human or warlock could do. Emlyn still refused to look at her.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffff00">“Angels speak of innocence as if it is a singular, unified concept,” </span>Emlyn said coldly, eyes beginning to close again.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffff00">“There is ethical innocence, moral innocence, physical and mental innocence. So many ways that innocence can be measured and taken. But angels only care for the ethical innocence and bodily purity, and thus only look for it. If you care so much for those who engineered the murder of one of my boroughs, then I am more than willing to take <i>your</i> purity in their place.” </span>Another moment passed, and Emlyn added.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffff00">“You can make your decision in silence. Speak again and you will not save anyone.”</span>