Michael: Last Angel of Earth

As Michael tended to his wounds, the council discussed how they would tell the creator. His back was still raw, and he could still feel the presence of his wings. Moving past the guards, Uriel and others went to check up on their friend.

“Thank you, Michael,” said Uriel. She placed a hand on his shoulder. He looked at her wearily but still managed to make a smile. Suddenly, an angel rushed through the chamber doors, it was a worker angel, and his once-white robe was covered in blood and torn to pieces. His eyes widen with shock and terror. Everyone turned their attention to him. Delphi went over to him and slowly eased his tension.

“What has happened?” she said.

“Demons.....hordes of them.....outpost under....at-attack.....but....are...not..alone-” before he could finish, the young angel passed out.

“Delphi, gather what men we have left and push back the invaders,” said Metatron. Delphi and her comrades left the chamber room, saluting her lord in great haste. He then turned his attention to Michael and the others, then back at the elders.

“Elders, in this dire situation, I ask that you allow Michael and his angels to fight.”

“We grant that request, except for Michael. Without his wings, he is no longer an angel.” Michael stood up.

“My elders, please let me fight. I’m already sentenced to death. At least now, my death will serve a better purpose.” Ezekiel nodded in agreement.

“Very well, Michael, we grant shall allow you to fight.” Michael saluted the elders with respect. Kneeling told Margret to stay in the chamber room until he returned. The little girl nodded yes. Grabbing his weapon and armor, Michael led his friends out into battle. Once they got outside, they realized this was no invasion but a war of extermination.

All along the battlements, the archangels fought demons and hordes of other monsters. Gold and obsidian warriors clothed in black robes, all wearing the mask of a jackal, deformed horned men with glowing green eyes covered in steel clothes and swarms of raven-winged demons with iron spears.

Michael ordered his team to split up and attack multiple fronts without knowing what to do. It would be a mistake that would haunt him for the rest of his life. Heading to the battlements, Michael clashed with the demonic horde. He gutted, hacked, slashed, and killed any creature over the walls. However, their efforts were futile, as they had no end. Michael was mortal to add further worry; thus, he had to be extremely careful around demonic entities. As the Angels pushed back the hordes of darkness, Michael believed they were winning. Then there was a roar erupting from the night.

Suddenly, out of the shadows, two massive creatures emerged. One was covered in black fur and resembled a giant wolf, while the other was covered in scales and had a snake’s appearance. Their destructive might destroyed the defenses, sending angels flying in different directions. They were then picked off one by one by the other attackers. Gathering up the surviving defenders, Michael and the others fall back to the castle’s keep and barricade themselves in. Once inside, Michael takes a headcount of how many got in.

“How many of us are left?” asked Michael.

“Less than half. Most outside are dead,” said one angel.

“What does that leave exactly?” said Gabriel.

“Maybe 300 at most,” said Delphi. She and her angels were bandaging up the seriously wounded.

“Did we all see those same enemies outside? Men with golden jackal masks, glowing horned fiends, giant animals? These are not the armies of Lucifer.”

“I agree, young Michael; our enemies have made some allies during this time,” said Metatron. Though they were safe inside the castle, it was only a matter of time before the enemies breached. As the survivors prepared to barricade the door, one angel rushed to Michael.

“Michael, the child...she is....gone.”

“WHAT!” he replied. “The Elders?”

“All dead. Something or someone got inside the castle. We tried to follow but lost them as they entered the upper levels. I’m sorry, Michael.” This made him very concerned. He could not allow another innocent to die by his hand. However, he could not abandon his friends. Suddenly, the barricade began to shake. Outside, the armies of darkness were chanting at the wolf who continuously rammed the door. With every boom, the wall was losing strength. Just then, out of nowhere, the floor below them began to shake. Soon the floor behind them began to give way. Next, a massive hole emerged, and out came deformed creatures of the night. Metatron ordered half of the defenders to deal with the mounters while the others kept pressing on the door.

The fighting was up close and brutal. From behind, Gabriel shot his arrows at the monsters exiting the hole, whereas Raphael was in the heart of the battle, grabbing demons and crushing their skulls. Michael, Uriel, and the other angels fought hard against the demon horde. However, they knew the door would not hold.

“This battle is lost, Michael; you need to leave,” shouted Uriel.

“I will not leave you all to die,” shouted Michael.

“Dammit, Michael, if we all die, hope dies with us. One of us needs to live,” yelled Gabriel.

“You must keep the child safe, Michael!” screamed Raphael. Michael knew his friends were right. There were too few to hold back the demons and barricade the door. Huffing in defeat, Michael nodded his head in agreement.

“Michael, hand me your weapon. The passage up is narrow,” said Uriel. Handing her his polearm, she tossed him Hellfire.

“Go, Michael, we’ll take care of things down here. Get Margret and get out of here,” said Uriel. He took the sword to the stair and made the long journey up. Going higher and higher, he noticed the walls turned from glossy white to obsidian black. Not only that, the air had turned cold and still, but he pressed onward. After making his way to the top barracks, he slowly opened the door. The door made a creaking sound as the former angel slowly entered. Looking around, he called out to Margret in a whisper.

“Margret, are you here?” he whispered. Looking around, he searched underneath the beds and in the crates, but he could not find her. Then, he heard a slight moan coming from a stack of boxes. Moving towards the sound, Michael pushed the boxes away and finally found her, covered in blood and traumatized.

Michael knelt to calm the child.

“Margret, what happened?” he asked. She said nothing. Instead, she pointed behind him. Turning his head, his eyes widened as a cloud of black mist melted away from the shadows. With the fog slowly fading away, a cloaked figure stood before the pair. Removing his hood, standing before Michael was a black-winged angel. A Nephilim.

This Nephilim was covered from head to toe in armor. Covering his head was a pointed helm with half a faceguard shaped like the eyes of a dragon. Attached to the forehead area were two outward curvings, wing-like ornaments. His shoulders were pointy, relatively narrow, and enormous. They’re decorated with masterfully crafted layers of metal in the shape of dragon scales. The upper arms were protected by black, pointed, layered metal rerebraces that sat loosely under the shoulder plates. The lower arms were covered by steel vambraces, which have a curved blade attached to each outer side, and the edges curved upwards towards the shoulder. The breastplate was made from one large piece of iron but crafted to mimic the appearance of muscles. It covered almost everything from the neck down. It narrowed near the groin and left parts of the sides exposed. The upper legs were covered by jagged, fully covering cuisses. The lower legs were protected by metal greaves, with many small metal spikes covering the lower legs. Michael was petrified. He had heard stories of angels such as these but never met one up close. Guesting Margret to stay behind him, Michael aimed his Halberd at the enemy but felt his hands trembling.

“Who are you?” said Michael. The Nephilim said nothing. His only response was unsheathing his sword. But this was no ordinary sword. This sword had a large, narrow, barbed blade made of obsidian, held by a grip wrapped in rare, grey dragon skin. With a double, sharp edge, this weapon was the perfect choice for slicing and dicing while offering users a way to block attacks effectively. The blade had a barbed, intricate cross-guard, adding just enough weight to ensure the blade sat firmly in the owner’s hand and protected those same hands. A large round pommel with a skull crusher firmly held the sword together.

“That sword cannot be, but then...you are...”

“Careful now. We wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise?” said the Nephilim. His voice was cold, distant, and dreadful.

“But you are dead?” said Micheal. The Nephilim chuckled.

“My death was exaggerated. Now step aside.” He points the sword and Michael. Though he was no longer an angel, he still had an angles heart, and that heart told him to fight.

“I will not let you take her,” said Michael. In an instant, the Nephilim lunged forward, sword pointed at Michael’s heart. The former angel blocks it and counters with an overhead strike. The strike glances off the helm, and the two go back and forth, attacking and defending. Suddenly the Nephilim gains the upper hand and pushes Michael out of the room and down the stairs. Margret ran after him, not wanting to be left behind. Prompting himself up, he had his back to the walls, panting heavily.

The Nephilim cocked his head and slowly exited the doorway.

“Going somewhere?” he said in a jesting manner. Getting Margaret behind him, Michael kept the sword outward, keeping his distance from the enemy.

“Face it, angel, we are the rising power now. Your rule is over; now, it is our time.”

“I’d rather die than submit to you.”

“That can be arranged.” Before he could go further, the Nephilim stopped and placed a hand on his head. He closed his eyes and listened intensely. Opening his eyes once again, he sheathed his sword.

“Seems we must postpone our conversation for another time, Farewell.” As quickly as he appeared, the Nephilim returned to the shadows and vanished. With the enemy gone, Michael fell on the stairsteps and tried to regain his breath. Coming from below, he could still hear the sounds of fighting taking place.

“We need to leave,” said Michael. Grabbing Margret by the hand, they went back up to the upper barracks, where Michael placed his head outside the window. Looking down, he raised the skies were swarming with hellish creatures. However, he knew they would have to jump to survive. Grabbing a large bed sheet and some cloth, he tired Margaret to his back and told her to hold on. Making his way to the window again, he looked down and suddenly felt fear come over him.

As an angel, he never had to worry about heights. As a mortal, he was interfered with. Despite his fears, he had to overcome them. Placing one leg over the railing, Michael closed his eyes and made one last prayer.

“Holy Father. Please give me the strength to save this child. Allow me to save one innocent life.” He took a deep breath, got his other leg over the railing, looked down again, and jumped.

After that...darkness and silence.

From that day onward, the people’s hope dwindled as darkness consumed the world. The outpost was destroyed, and all the watchers were slain. Humankind was now defenseless. The world’s nations were soon divided into territorial regions occupied by different warlords. Humanity was now at the mercy of these warlords as much lost hope and succumbed to darkness. Yet there were few reaming who still believed.

Few were still looking for Angels.