There is considerable force in that strike. The darkened ball of energy colliding solidly with those crossed-over blades as Matteo flung both his arms, in unison, to the left- sending that energy ball wayward and into the solid, ancient stone of the church wall. It protested beneath that shockwave. Stone cracked and crumbled to the floor and yet ancient churches such as this had been built to withstand far more than a mere ball of darkened energy. That foundation remaining solid. Matteo's own steel blades remained well intact, a testament to the being who had forged them all those years ago and to the power of the Fae who wielded them with practised ease. This battle was hardly one he took pleasure within and yet- for his niece to face that being whom had been the very source of her families ruin was her own fated path to walk. One he remained determined to assist upon even if those final blows were so destined to be her own and just whom might emerge the victor so continued to shift and change within his mind's eye at each decision and action taken. His insistence that Rasputin prepared a second assault had no sooner been heard by the Russian Hunter then the sudden opening of a door drew the eyes of each being towards it. That singular clergyman gasped in ready fear at the sight of that supernatural feud, the elderly man barely given a chance to acknowledge what existed around him before Rasputin's second attack was launched towards him.

Matteo's gift for teleportation hummed readily into action and yet- Anastasia had already moved, the young woman, so alike her Father in that moment, all but throwing herself towards that ill-fated clergyman and sending him to his knees to avoid that energy blast that exploded behind them and sent that stone archway crumbling and cracking about them. Anastasia was quick to right herself by grace of her Hunter breed. The young woman hurling that blade with a fantastic force and the sort of accuracy Alexander and himself had long insisted from her. Yet- Rasputin had been ready, it seemed, the man evaporating into the darkness once more- that blade colliding with naught but air and stone as it clattered to the floor. That distinctly Russian cuss spat from her lips like a snarl of pure displeasure at having missed her target.

"Be ready, Ana-"

Any further words he may have offered were cut short by that gasp from behind them. Matteo, in turn, neatly pivoted upon his toes to eye that fallen clergyman who struggled to his feet and so cast Anastasia aside in a dismissal of her assistance. The elderly man shuffled forward and further into the ruin that had become the cathedral, both his hands rising to ball into fists as he shook them with a distinct fury and a truly surprising amount or rage towards the Frenchman and his niece. That very cuss word reiterated towards them with holy fury for theri veritable desecration of that religious site. His voice echoing through that space. How ironic that he might choose to scorn them, his veritable saviours, when the demon himself still lurked within the shadows. Matteo so hardly having time to fret over the woes of a priest when that battle was still far from won. That crackling of power that existed within the shadows still very much assuring him that Rasputin continued to linger.

"Ready your blade again, Ana. He is far from done. You, clergyman, Vy dolzhny ukryt'sya, demony zaderzhivayutsya zdes'."

That Russian fell smoothly from his own tongue. Those words sounding nothing short of curious with that French accent, the clergyman momentarily seeming baffled by them in turn as he spun to face the near ancient Fae. That protest, Matteo could tell, remained upon his lips in ready waiting and yet how precious little time they were afforded as the darkness seemed to swell like a veritable tide and envelop that space once more in signal of Rasputin's return. How clearly Matteo had seen that warlocks plan already, Rasputin no sooner having taken physical form once more then that blast of dark energy was hurled at that still shaken clergyman who stood prone like a beacon within the center of the church. Matteo, this time, so prepared for that incoming assault. Those blades were stowed hurriedly behind his back once more, his hand, now free, raised upwards as that rise of power within the room increased tenfold. How rarely he engaged that power and yet there hardly need be the spill of holy blood tonight..

Flames, as bright and glorious as they had ever been, so erupted from the stone itself mere feet from that priest, that fire rapidly and hurriedly spread to surround the holy man in a circle, keeping him within its captive hold and yet- shielding him from the outside in turn. Those flames, raging and heated though they were, remained readily beneath Matteo's control as several more words fell from his lips. A neat silent, muttered utterance. A prayer perhaps. Spoken in a language long forgotten and yet one that spoke to the heat of that fire itself. Those flames responded quickly, changing from heated red to a cool and yet no less vibrant blue. That colour so giving away the truth of its powers as that darkened ball of black energy collided with that fiery ring that shielded the priest and so merely....evaporated. Holy Fire and but one of the Frenchmans gifts. Those flames acting as a shield agianst any dark force. A shield that simple could not be extinguished. Rasputin's cries of outrage rose above that crackling sound of fire. The light provided by those blue flames flooding the church now and affording Anastasia a distinct upper hand as it stole away Rusptins beloved darkness.

"Hurry Ana, while you have the chance!"

His free hand reached behind him, that sword at his back drawn readily and tossed toward the woman. Matteo assured she held the skill to wield it. That clergyman safe behind his wall of holy flame.

c'est dur d'être un dieu.