Flashback:
Hell—a barren land of agony, sadness, regret, and hopelessness. Crimson skies loomed over deserts of sand soaked with blood and tears. No rivers, no lakes—only pain. Zariel ruled it. And we were his commandments.
Hell has regions, each tailored to a specific sin. Murder. Kidnapping. Rape. Child abuse. Manipulation. Human sins are endlessly creative. And when their souls arrive, the first thing they do is deny. They bargain, cry, justify. It's almost funny. Almost.
I did the same once. When I first arrived, I begged. I pleaded with God. I thought He'd listen. But one question haunted me: Why were other creations of god given second chances? Why were they allowed redemption while we rotted for one mistake?
I asked Zariel. He laughed.
"Angels were created to be perfect," he said. "To serve. If you betray that, you're not perfect. You're not an angels anymore. The title of Angel is sacred—untainted. And about being "merciful" you are alive that's his mercy." You are lucky its the first time something like this has happened, if it was the second then you all would have experienced god's wrath.
"Where do we go when we "perish" do we return to heaven or are we trapped in hell forever?" Asmodeus once asked.
"Nowhere," Zariel replied. "You have no soul. You return to the matter you were born from."
"You?" I asked. "Weren't you once an angel? A fallen Archangel? You will also return to matter, then why use "you"?"
Zariel smiled. "No. I am not God's creation like you."
"Then what are you?" Lucifer asked.
"I'm his equal." Zariel replied.
"Impossible" mammon barked.
"God is the absolute being of power no one is equal to him." He continued.
Lucifer's eyes widened.
Even i was curious about his mystery and the power he holds. And about his existence.
He smiled as he told us to listen carefully.
Zariel narrowed his eyes and began.
In the beginning, before the ticking of time or the shaping of worlds, there existed the Primordials — beings whose existence predated stars, matter, and even the concept of space itself. They were not born, nor were they created; they simply were, each a living embodiment of a principle that would one day define reality. They had no need for light or dark, for in that pre-reality expanse, there was neither.
Among them was "Auralis", the one who would later be known as God — not by his own naming, but by the voices of his creations. Auralis was the embodiment of Order, the force that binds chaos into form. And among his closest companions was I Zariel, embodiment of Change — the inevitable decay and transformation that follows all creation.
The others, each vast and unfathomable in power, bore names that have been lost, even to me. The others were beings of Will, of Void, of Memory, of existence, of Silence, and of Flame. For an age beyond reckoning, we existed in harmony, our thoughts shaping the fabric of the nothingness around us. We woved patterns in the void — simple at first, then complex — until the first currents of existence began to stir. From our idle play came the earliest forms: raw energy, drifting clusters of proto-matter, the infant whispers of what would become universes.
But harmony is a fragile thing when power is absolute. Over time, questions arose among them: Who among us is the strongest? Who existed first? The question grew into challenges, and the challenges into contests. The contest, as all contests between gods do, became a war.
This war was not fought in any world, for worlds did not yet exist in the way mortals know them. It was fought in the very medium of reality — the threads of being themselves. Stars were born and shattered in the span of a breath. Vast seas of light collapsed into darkness as entire laws of nature were torn apart and rewritten. Each Primordial drew upon their essence to reshape the battlefield, but with each strike, they bled fragments of themselves into the fabric of creation.
The war continued for eternity, as we were beings of immortals and it was close to impossible to kill us, but the war dragged for so long the primordials realised their mistake the war will never end. But they had to know who was the strongest. They continued fighting war. And slowly some started to leave the war and hid somewhere else. Some willingly gave up their lives, so that this madness could end. The death of the first primordial was the single biggest factor which increased the greed to know more. The primordials who were fighting the war were more curious as to who is the strongest now that they know they can be killed. It continued on and on, i once thought of giving up as well, but didn't, maybe i was a coward scared of what would happen to me after i was slain.
The primordials returned to their natural forms after being slain which is a pure raw energy which gets dissipated, and spreads across the void. Slowly more and more primordials died. And the war finally came to an end. He sighed.
"When the Great War ended," Zariel continued, his voice low but clear, "I gave up my powers. Not out of weakness… but as tribute to my friends who fell. Every time I wielded that strength after they were gone, it felt like tearing open an old wound." His gaze drifted upward, as if searching through memories only he could see. "Auralis honoured the primordials in his own way. By creating life. He succeeded in creating life. That was His tribute. Life on earth was meant for spreading love and kindness. I was glad to witness it… glad to be part of something that could grow instead of being destroyed."
He leaned back, his tone quieting. "When He offered me my own realm, I took it without protest. I ruled it in peace. I did not seek battle. I did not seek glory."
One of the princes stepped forward, his voice edged with curiosity. "So… you no longer use your powers?"
Zariel's lips curved in the faintest smile. "No. I only harness the strength of my sword—Ephonsel."
The name hung heavy in the air, its reputation known even here. The princes exchanged glances; some frowned in disbelief, others lowered their heads in silent respect. And for a moment, the hall was filled not with the tension of Hell's politics—but with something rarer. Admiration.
Present day:
Obil consumed with fury his eyes reflected his views for the world he didn't care about anything or anyone.
Obil launched a fist glowing with fury. Avile ducked under and slammed into his knees. Bones crunched. Flesh tore. Obil's legs shattered—but they healed in seconds.
Avile didn't let up. A punch to the gut. Another to the ribs. Obil swung wildly. Lightning-fast. Avile blocked with his elbow. The clash sounded like thunder. Sparks scattered like embers. Avile's elbow broke in pieces but it healed in no time.
Avile grabbed Obil's arm, twisted, and drove a punch through his abdomen. Blood gushed, but the wound closed. He struck again. Faster. Harder. Trying to outpace the healing.
Obil roared and adapted. He lashed out with whatever muscle hadn't been destroyed yet. The ground cracked beneath their feet. Every impact shattered stone, every dodge tore the wind.
Dust rose. Blood mixed with it. Neither archon yielded.
They screamed as they punched each other. Their healing starting to waver slowly. One will fall.
In his mind Obil was living his nightmare the day of his family getting killed inside the gas chamber. Over and over again he suffocated and cried. His fury turned to agony. Avile looked at him with pity and tried to stop him from losing himself.
"Obil i dont know what u have gone through, but please wake up. We need y__"
A punch broke Avile's jaw open, Obil slammed his knees inside of Avile's stomach damaging his internals. He ripped his backbone out of Avile's body. Avile couldn't even scream as Obil took out his tongue and punched him in the face. Avile flew. His wounds healing,he was contemplating what to do. He falled. And stood up, Obil reached and prepared to punch. Avile looked at him with pity and decided. Obil punched him, Avile took it without dodging, with his left hand Avile broke through Obil's defense and punched Obil's head. Obil screamed. They fought like titans.
High above, in the storm-ripped skies, Gabriel charged Lucifer. His blade shimmered with celestial fire.
Lucifer vanished before the blow landed—then reappeared between Mikhael and Gabriel. He swung "Olethros." Sparks erupted. Their swords collided in a storm of energy, ripping apart clouds and vaporizing the air.
The Archons prepared to attack but Zariel interrupted them.
Zariel gripped Elyen's Face. His fingers covered her whole face. And he started applying immense force.
She screamed, legs flailing in the air, blood running down her chin as his fingers cracked her cheekbones like brittle glass. Her wings fluttered violently, desperation turning to terror.
Mael launched forward with a howl, sword arcing for Zariel's spine. But Zariel twisted midair, his leg shooting up with unnatural precision, blocking Mael's blade with the sole of his foot. The recoil snapped the sword from Mael's hands.
Kael and Vale flew in tandem—one low, one high. Kael slashed for the arm crushing Elyen's head; Vale spun like a comet, driving his blade down toward Zariel's collarbone.
Zariel shifted his body, unnatural and serpentine. He slammed Vale's sword aside with his elbow and absorbed Kael's strike with his forearm. The blade bit, but did not cleave.
Without releasing Elyen, he kicked Kael in the gut. Bones cracked. Kael was thrown back, spinning through the air.
Mael recovered, a new blade forming in his hands. He roared and dove again.
Zariel responded—his wings snapped once, launching him backward with Elyen still in his grasp. As Mael swung, Zariel dipped under it and with his free hand, struck Mael's knee mid-flight. The joint shattered, and Mael spiraled out.
Vale re-entered the fray, spinning like a blade in a storm. He struck from below.
Zariel caught the sword mid-swing—barehanded. His grip crushed the blade's edge. His eyes never left Elyen's face.
Her mouth bled prayers. Her forehead split open from the pressure.
Kael returned, slicing downward from above.
Too slow.
Zariel bent slightly and—
Crack.
Elyen's skull collapsed into his hand. Her body went limp instantly, her wings twitching once, then falling still. Flesh did not heal. There was only silence.
Mael screamed.
He flew like lightning and drove his sword at Zariel's chest, but Zariel met him halfway—fist first.
The impact crumpled Mael mid-air. His sword shattered. Blood splattered in arcs as Mael dropped, limbs twitching, breath gone.
Vale surged forward, aiming for Zariel's throat.
Zariel swayed. The blade passed millimeters from his neck.
In return, Zariel elbowed him in the ribs—twelve times in the span of a blink. Bones ruptured like twigs. Vale coughed blood, eyes wide in shock.
Kael reached Zariel again. With his sword he slashed, But Zariel turned just as he came—and drove his fist Time slowed down of Kael as he watched Zariel's bare fist breaking his sword into fragments.Zariel's punch ripped through his sword. And it ripped Through his chest. Blood sprayed. As zariel's hand had gotten inside of Kael's chest. The wound didn't heal.Vale and Mael struck. Zariel raised his other hand. Blocked both. Kicked Mael
And took his hand out of kael's body and punched Vale.
Kael fell. A hole in his chest representing his mental state. His vision dimmed.
Zariel didn't pause. He spun midair and kicked Mael's body out of the air like broken debris.
Vale came again, slower now, desperate. Zariel caught him by the throat, dragged him midflight into a slab of floating stone, and smashed him through it. He released him mid-collapse.
Mael and Vale fell, twitching, gasping.
Zariel floated above them, surrounded by drifting fragments of angelic steel and broken bodies. Elyen's corpse hovered for a moment, headless, graceful in its fall.
Then it too dropped to the bloodied earth below.
With his last blink Kael saw the headless body of Elyen. A tear dropped from his eye as he became lifeless.