The city breathed beneath them — skyscrapers glowing against the drizzle, clouds swallowing the moon.
From above, it looked peaceful.
From where Azrael stood, it looked… fragile.
Across the rooftop, Kael stood in the rain.
His wings — once radiant silver — now dripped black light, the mark of a corrupted angel.
His sword, Seraph's Ruin, glowed faintly with dying divinity.
"You shouldn't have come here, Kael."
Azrael's voice was calm, but it carried the undertone of stormlight.
"And let you wander among humans like one of them?" Kael spat. "You've fallen too far."
Azrael tilted his head, studying him like a scientist examining a fading star.
"Perhaps falling was the first honest thing I ever did."
A faint hum of power built between them — the kind that made the air taste of iron and ozone.
Raindrops hesitated in midair as their divinity began to leak into the world.
[SYSTEM ALERT]
— Divine Tension Detected.
— Combat Mode: Passive Sync Active.
— Estimated Probability of Urban Destruction: 83%.
Azrael ignored it. He focused on Kael.
Old memories whispered in his mind — laughter, shared battles, light. Before the fall. Before Heaven turned silent.
Kael drew his sword slowly, the blade singing through the rain.
"You used to be the Son of Creation. The first among us. Now look at you — playing mortal."
"And yet," Azrael said softly, "I'm the only one who feels alive."
The rooftop cracked under their combined aura.
Kael's blade moved first — a blur of darkness cutting through the rain.
Azrael caught it with his bare hand, divine sparks spraying around them like shattered stars.
Their eyes met — light against shadow.
Then the world erupted.
Buildings trembled as they moved faster than sight. Blades of light and darkness clashed midair, creating shockwaves that shattered glass across several blocks.
Lightning rippled from their wings, painting the night sky with streaks of silver and violet.
Azrael blinked behind Kael — Blink, the short-range teleportation granted by his fading divinity.
He struck with an open palm — Mystic Light igniting around his hand.
Kael countered, parrying with raw shadow. Their collision sent both flying back, boots grinding against the rooftop edge.
[SYSTEM]
— Skill Sync 64%.
— Warning: Chrono field destabilizing.
Kael raised his blade again. "You think you understand humanity? You don't belong here."
Azrael smirked faintly. "And yet, I'm the only one trying."
They vanished in twin flashes — reappearing midair, trading blows so fast they blurred into streaks of divine light.
Each hit carried history.
Each strike screamed of betrayal, of brotherhood burned by Heaven's silence.
[SYSTEM]
— Suggestion: Activate Chrono Pause (30s).
Azrael clenched his jaw. "Do it."
The world froze.
Raindrops stopped midair.
Lightning halted mid-strike.
Azrael moved through still time, his breath echoing softly.
He stopped in front of Kael, who hung frozen mid-attack — face twisted in determination.
He studied him quietly.
This was the brother who once laughed beside him.
The angel who had believed in him before Heaven turned cruel.
"Even frozen in time, you never stop fighting," Azrael whispered.
He reached out — brushed Kael's blade. It vibrated faintly, resonating with his touch.
[SYSTEM NOTE]
— Emotion detected: Melancholy. Power Resonance increasing by 8%.
He exhaled, then stepped back. "Resume."
Time snapped like glass.
Kael's attack completed, and Azrael parried with a burst of light.
As they fought, something stirred in the storm — an ancient whisper, feminine, soft, echoing across dimensions.
"You are not meant to die here, Azrael."
The voice wasn't human.
It wasn't divine either — something in between.
Azrael staggered slightly, his concentration faltering. Kael's blade grazed his cheek, leaving a line of burning light.
"Still distracted," Kael growled, pressing forward.
But Azrael's focus snapped back. His Eclipse Eyes flared open — concentric halos spinning within his pupils.
The world slowed. Every movement, every pulse of divinity became visible to him.
[NEW ABILITY: Celestial Perception]
— Enables micro-time reading and preemptive awareness.
Azrael sidestepped Kael's next attack easily, then slammed his hand into the ground.
Light erupted in a circular pattern, blasting Kael backward into a wall of broken glass.
He panted, shoulders heaving. "Still want to lecture me, brother?"
Kael gritted his teeth, but there was a flicker of pain in his eyes. "You were supposed to lead us."
"I still am," Azrael said quietly. "Just… in a different direction."
Lightning flashed — and in the next second, a shadow and light merged in midair.
A ripple of silver flame erupted above the rooftop, forming into a hovering sigil — an ancient seal of creation.
From its center stepped a figure — a woman draped in black feathers, her presence bending the air around her.
Her eyes gleamed gold, not like sunlight — but like a god's forgotten memory.
Kael froze mid-step.
Azrael's eyes widened slightly.
"Faith…" he breathed.
The woman smiled faintly, landing gracefully between them.
"Still fighting old wars, my Lord?" Her voice was calm, but carried the echo of distant heavens.
Kael's expression darkened. "Faith of the Sixth Choir. You serve him?"
"I serve creation," she replied simply. "And he still bears its mark."
She turned her gaze toward Azrael — that same golden stare cutting through him like light through water.
"You're weakening," she said softly. "The human world drains divinity faster than you realize."
Azrael's tone was dry. "So you came to lecture me too?"
Faith smirked. "No. I came to stop you both before this city forgets what gravity is."
Her wings unfolded — half light, half shadow — and with a single beat, a pulse of divine resonance swept through the area.
The storm itself bent to her will, freezing in midair.
"Stand down, both of you," she said. "The world isn't ready to see its gods bleed."
Kael lowered his sword reluctantly, his breath heavy.
Azrael, too, relaxed his stance, though his eyes stayed on her.
When Kael finally left, fading into the rain, Faith stood silently beside Azrael.
For a long while, neither spoke.
Only the sound of the city below filled the space between them.
"You shouldn't have interfered," Azrael said quietly.
"And you shouldn't have fallen," she countered. "But here we are."
She stepped closer, studying him — her gaze softer now.
"You've changed. You… feel."
Azrael looked away. "I don't know what that means."
Faith smiled faintly. "That's what makes it interesting."
Raindrops slid down her face like tears.
And for a brief moment — the Son of Creation, the fallen goddess, and the mortal city beneath them — existed in a fragile balance between heaven and humanity.