"Michael."
Aron stopped right where he was, his feet standing steady. There were very few names which held his steps, and lucky for the messenger, that name was one of them. The one who had trained him and Adam from the dawn of time, the one who smited Lucifer to hell.
"Michael...?" Aron asked, as he turned to the angel, his golden eyes seeing the holy paper of commandments in his hand.
"Indeed, this order is written by his very han—" the angel beckoned, but the note was already gone from his fingers as Aron had already glitched in front of him in the blink of an eye.
Aron read the note, and indeed, the letters and insignia of palms together, the symbol of peace and greetings, it was indeed his, which only meant one thing: he needed to follow orders and stop here. "Why does heaven care so much? You lot should be busy watching and mediating wars and cleaning up demons," he mentioned.
"Yes, we indeed have our boundaries, golden one," the angel muttered, taking back the note from Aron's grip. "But times are dire, the order of the world is sputtering down, the mess the Genesis left behind, what you... left behind, lady Ureil and everyone else are indeed cleaning up everything," he muttered, his tone bearing utter coldness.
Khorn checked the scanner, the location of Hermes getting farther once more. They didn't have time; if they were to be late, anything could happen to Peter, anything. "...My lord," she called. "He's getting farther. If we don't move now..."
Aron gritted his teeth; she was right. The more time they wasted here, the worse the situation was going to get. He gazed beyond the icy caps and arched his neck towards the cloudy sky. He knew what he needed to do.
"I will talk to the man himself," he beckoned, turning to the angel.
"You mean to talk with him personally... preposterous," he beckoned.
Aron felt like smacking the shit out of the angel, but he had to remember: it's just them adapting. It's really hard for them to stay below and protect everyone with their overwhelming positive karma.
"For you, yes," he replied. "For me... no."
"..."
There was silence, but Aron knew underneath that armored helm there was a smug look. 'That's why I don't like working with them. They enjoy lowering their gutteral karma,' he thought, as he turned to Khorn.
"Khorn..." he called.
"Yes, my lord..." she answered, her gaze still on the scanner, as another signal was coming near them, and it was closing in fast.
"Something wrong?"
"...No, no," she replied, but something was wrong, as she knew what was coming towards them, the energy signals estimating divinity lingering with nature, meaning one thing and one thing only, another herald—and who could it be other than him? But she knew she had to stay shut, and she would stay shut until her lord accomplished what he was going to do.
"Okay, I will pray to Michael here, and I want you to safeguard my body while my ego is away," he beckoned.
"I will," she answered, kneeling down right away, assuring him.
Aron nodded as he started his prayer, going on his knees, his gaze up at the sky.
"O Michael, Blade of Unnamed Flame,
Who stood when heaven itself bore shame,
Stand with me now—I do not claim
Worth or right to speak Your name.
That is why my voice is raised,
Not in pride, but ash and haze.
Cut my weakness from the root,
Burn the rot no mercy suits.
Guard the gate my hands can't hold,
Steel my will, make fear grow cold.
Grant me no soft rest or spark—
Make me ruin to the dark.
And when my strength is torn and spent,
When flesh and hope alike are bent,
Carry my soul, unbroken, bright,
Into Your ever-burning light.
Come.
Amen."
Suddenly, his eyes gradually brightened, light pouring out as his lips radiated holy brilliance. With that, his body brightened up. The angel couldn't help but see it in awe, this presence, this light, it indeed belonged to the absolute power, Michael.
Sensing the light, he bowed. No, the angel kneeled, not to Aron but to the light that was connecting the immortal to High Heaven, the light which belonged to the Sword of God Himself.
Mean while Khorn, who was kneeling, huffed, gradually standing up. Her eyes were on the white glowing body of Aron. He was in stasis. A vulnerable state. He hadn't believed in the weak old her before, letting James or John or any other hold and protect him when he was in such a state.
"I don't know what changed in those hundred years, but you believed in me. And I will live up to that belief," she beckoned, as her scanner started ticking, getting louder and louder.
Beep, beep.
She didn't care, turning back, facing the horizon, as she saw him. He was still far away, but his aura and divinity were erratic and wild, the nausea coming all the way towards them and she wasn't the only one who felt it.
The fresh bloodlust reached all the way to the kneeling angel. He too stood up. His divinity was acting on its own, his halo seeping and shining high. "Who is this? Another god?" the angel asked.
"No... it's my pitiful brother," she replied.
"Brother?... Don't you sense that bloodlust, woman? That's no one's brother," he beckoned, his wings itching and reacting from the faraway divinity. He looked back, the light of Michael still blessing the immortal. "What do you intend to do? If it's not a demon or a demigod, I have no right to intervene," he beckoned.
Khorn huffed, her fire aura flaring high, as the snow around her started to melt. "I have a plan. You angels are mediators, right? Then mediate," she muttered.
The angel immediately understood what she was getting into as he backed away slowly, his invisible wings flapping, taking himself high above, while Khorn walked forward, the scanner beeping more and more. Until the crunch of snow echoed closer.
Beeeeep!
It notified the target was close, and he was close indeed, as Khorn's red hair gradually morphed into fire, not the same yellow-heated fire but white and golden, the blessing of her lord still with her.
She gazed beyond, her amber eyes meeting green. From the small snowy hill, a figure was visible, shirtless, body tensed with muscles, and hands bloody and fresh.
"It's been long, Brother James," she voiced, gazing up.
James gazed down, seeing the familiar red hair. "Indeed, Sister, it's been what... a few decades?" he said, resting his arms on his legs. "If you're here, then my guess is correct. Where is the old man?"
"Who?" she asked, her divinity flaring.
"You know who. The one who left us alone, the one who abandoned his responsibilities, his family," he growled, as the mere thought brought back the rage he was holding.
"That's in the past...but You're right, he's back. But James, my brother, listen to me when I sa—"
"Oh, little Khorn, again trying to fix everything," he muttered, cutting her off. "Always trying to hold everyone together. I think you haven't got the news..." he mocked, shaking his hands and shoulders. "...You FAILED!"
"..." Khorn stayed shut, as she gulped, the memories she didn't want to remember rolling in. She couldn't help but bite her lips, her eyes turning moist. "I know, I'm to blame, but I will no longer be that pitiful little girl whom you all thought so little of," she muttered.
James smiled, feeling her divinity melt the snow all around, so much so, even he could feel the heat, the blood around his body drying off. The Khorn he knew was only this hostile when it came to their lord, confirming his instinct, confirming the scent—his lord was indeed near, somewhere.
He jumped from the snowy hill, landing below, a few feet away from the youngest herald.
"Khorn, we both know you will die if I even touch you, so just tell me, where is that old cunt?" he asked, his green eyes glowing, searching for that golden divinity.
Khorn only stepped closer, her hands clenched tight with golden fire. Her eyes took notice of everything, from his mere blink to the twitch of his muscles.
James's eyes twinkled, seeing a golden-haired man kneeling far away. It was him. It was really him; there was no doubt about it. His heart was beating faster and faster. 'Found you,' he thought.
"Get out of my way, Khorn. This will be my Last warning," he said, walking forward, ignoring her completely. But the heat surged before him, forming a line of hot fire, which burned everything, igniting the line with a wall of fire.
"I'm not afraid of you, Brother," she muttered.
James turned, the intense heat making his body sweat, as he gazed at her, his green glowing eyes utterly irritated. "...Then you will die bravely," he muttered.
{Charging... 57%}