Michael: Last Angel of Earth

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DID NOT FIND THE BODY!?” yelled Lucifer. At Ashtanshire fortress, Xathaniel and Zarakoth reported back to their Lord Lucifer via a portal, who was not in a pleasant mood.

“My lord, my scouts have searched the rumble, but we cannot find him,” stated Zarakoth. Xathaniel said nothing. Nothing he could say would ease his lord’s anger.

“I allowed you to rectify your mistakes, yet you still fail!” On the opposite end of the portal, Lucifer paced back and forth in his throne room.

“We have the Romans gods in our possession, as well as the humans and mystics,” stated Xathaniel. “They can be useful to our efforts,”

“You think my husband cares for a few crusty old gods and a handful of ratbags?” said a new voice. Appearing next to Lucifer was his equally disappointed wife.

“M’lady, even if Michael’s body is never found, we still win. The armor and sword are still hidden from the world. We still rule, so what is the issue?” exclaimed Zarakoth. His outburst caught Lucifer’s eye and attention. If there was one thing that Lucifer despised most of all, it was those who spoke when not asked to speak.

"The issue?” repeated Lucifer. “Let me explain, Dragon. While I am satisfied with the death of Michael, the result came at a cost, did it not? Did you really believe that capturing the survivors from the Vatican could hide the fact that you failed to locate the sword? In killing the last angel and failing once more to find the body, you turned his death into martyrdom. His death will inspire others to rise against us, but most importantly, his death will be used by the dukes of hell as more fodder to use against me and my reign.

And most importantly, Dragon king, you serve me, and how you serve me REFLECTS UPON ME!” shouted Lucifer. His voice echoed in the throne room, causing some guards to wince in fear. Zarakoth, now realizing his mistake, bowed before his master and begged for forgiveness.

“You don’t want my forgiveness; you want my mercy. To which you will have neither, now get up,” barked Lucifer. The Dragon king arose and was unable to meet Lucifer’s gaze. As for Xathaniel, who remained silent for most of the beratement, finally spoke.

“My lord, I can assure you that Michael’s death will not have further ramifications for us. I believe-” Suddenly, the throne room doors burst open with a bloodied soldier running down the main entranceway.

“My lord Zarakoth!” shouted the soldier. Ignoring that Lucifer and his wife were present, the soldier fell before his lord, gasping his breath.

“My lord, we are under attack,” gasped the soldier. Zarakoth turned to Xathaniel and then back to the soldier.

“By whom?”

“B-by Angels, my lord.” The dragon king then grabbed the soldier by the neck and lifted him high into the air.

“There are no more angels!? Now, who is attacking us!?” shouted the dragon king. The soldier tried to speak but got a gurgle before Zarakoth snapped his neck.

“Tell me, Zarakoth, do you always kill those who tell the truth?” said Lilith calmly. The Dragon king turned back to the portal.

“M’lady, I assure you there are no more angels left on earth,” he replied. Lilith did not care for his response. She already knew the answer. She could see vast distances, illusions, spells, and more as a being blessed with eternal sight. She knew the angels were upon the fortress.

“Is he with them, my love?” said Lucifer. His wife and queen nodded yes. Xathanael could not believe what he was hearing. Just as the commotion outside the throne room grew louder, the former angel went to a nearby window to see for himself. To his horror and shock, the soldier had spoken true. Michael was indeed alive, and he had brought with him an army, but not just any army.

A Hidden Army.

“Left column, destroy any siege engines protecting the fortress. Fifth company, hunt down any patrols coming back into the kingdom. Snipers locate the prisoners and get them out of the city. Myself, Henebul, Khamael, and Jibril will handle the rest. Understood?” he ordered.

“Yes, sire,” they all responded in unison. Azarel smiled.

“Excellent. Now, engage!” he shouted in the air. As the army divided into their specific units, Azrael and the other angels descended into the courtyard, where chaos had taken over the enemy. Landing on the ground, the four warrior angels brandished their weapons.

“Shall we, men?” he smiled. Henebul and the others all nodded.

“I...hunger for blood,” said Naldak, appearing out of nowhere.

“Where the hell did you come from?” exclaimed Khamael. Azrael said not to question it. Now with Naldaks aid, the angels made their assault on the fortresses. As they charged, they were met with a host of Draconian Ravagers and other dragon beasts, including one Javurmas. It made no difference to them. These Ravagers were about to receive firsthand the true power of warrior angels. When the two forces clashed, dozens of enemy soldiers were blown away, thanks to the power of Khamael staff. In the chaos of battle, Michael could not help but notice the similarities he saw in his fellow angels to those of his brothers and sisters of the Watchers long ago. As Azrael hacked and slashed away at the oncoming Ravagers, a massive drake sought to kill the angel from behind. He would have been successful, yet the beast shrieked in pain before the drake could pounce on his prey. Azrael quickly turned around and saw that an iron spear tip pierced the drake’s chest.

“Where do you think you’re going, huh?” said Khamael. The drake shrieked even more as it was lifted into the air by Khamael, who then tossed the wounded creature quickly. Just as he did so, he disarmed and disabled even more soldiers with blinding speed. Every THWACK he delivered snapped bones and armor. It impressed Azrael, to say the least.

Khamael wielded his weapon easily and was surprisingly fast for an angel of size, stature, and strength. For Michael, he reminded him of Raphael. On the opposite side of him, Jibril found himself surrounded by four Wyverns, or at least he wanted them to believe he was surrounded. Closing his eyes for a moment, he envisioned his plan of attack, and then, with calculated precision, he hacked, slaved, pierced, severed, and severed the wyverns before they had a chance to react. His swordsmanship was something to be admired. He was quickly Uriel’s successor when it came to the sword. As for Henebul, the newest of the angels, he was having fun testing his latest weapons. His marksmanship improved with the crossbow repeater, taking down enemies with accuracy and precision. Ravagers fell with every THUD of an arrow piercing their chest. Turning over to his crossbow pistols, Henebul imagined himself as a western cowboy, firing over shots with such confidence and arrogance to match. Though he used his axe and seax, he enjoyed his distance weapons more. It was without a doubt that Henebeul embodied the very essence of Archangel Gabriel. These remembrances of his late brothers and sister filled the warrior angel with such passion that every kill from his blade was dedicated to all the past watchers.

In the chaos, Azrael senses a presence he has not felt before. It was new, yet it felt like he had known of it for some time. Suddenly, narrowly avoiding razor-sharp claws from behind, Azrael threw his attacker over his shoulder and stared directly at his face. It was none other than the Maneater himself, Javurmas. Azrael pointed his sword at him.

“So you have been tailing us since the beginning?” he said to the Maneater. Javurmas slowly got on his feet and licked the dirt between his claws. He tasted a faintness of angel blood, and a sensation came over him from that little taste. He hungered for more. Javurmas hunched over and began to circle Azrael like a big cat stalking his prey. Being on the defensive, Azrael placed his shield in front of him with the sword directly behind. The two locked eyes, trying to plan the perfect moment to strike. Azrael was covered from head to toe in armor, but he did not want to take any chances against this Maneater. Then, like any jungle cat, Javurmas pounced on Azrael, clawing at him with his nails. Luckily, Azrael’s armored hood protected his neck from any severe wounds. Using his shield, he pushed the Maneater off of him. Now it was his turn to be the aggressor. Even with his new powers as Azrael, he needed to be faster to land a single strike on the Maneater. Javurmas was simply too quick for him. He had to think of another way.

Just then, as Javuras lunged at him, claws extended and mouth open, Azrael sidestepped out of the way and, in the process, punched Javurmas across the side of the head with the edge of his shield. The blow of the shield sent the Maneater tumbling across the ground, leaving a sizable wound running down the side of his cheek near the end of his chin. He groaned in pain from the wounded he received. Grabbing the side of his face, he felt the blood trickling. As for Azrael, the warrior angel simply walked toward the fallen foe and pointed his sword at his enemy’s neck. Javurmas expected to be killed, but in a surprise twist, Azrael did nothing. Instead, he had a more devious ending for his pursuer. He leaned close to Javurmas ear and whispered to him.

“Run. Run away, Maneater. Never come back,” he said. Leaning away, Javurmas quickly got up and ran as fast as he could, for he knew what would become of him if he stayed. Running through the chaos, Henebul caught the Maneater in his sights as he was prepared to fire off an arrow into his back.

“Hold, brother,” said Azrael. “He is no longer a threat to us.”

“Are you sure?” asked Henebul, still keeping the Maneater within his line of sight. Azrael nodded his head.

“What happens now?” inquired Jibril.

“Now I have to settle a score with an old friend,” replied Azrael. “Can you all handle things here?” His fellow brothers all nodded their heads. Turning his attention to the Keep, he pushed the mighty doors open and stepped inside. Four surprisingly familiar faces greeted him as the doors closed behind him. Under his hood, he smiled confidently and walked down the main pathway. His footsteps echoed throughout the room and stopped just a few feet away from Zarakoth, Xathaniel, and the portal.

“Well, quite the reunion is it?” he exclaimed. Zarakoth and Xathaniel were in disbelief, but Lucifer was amused by Michael’s new appearance.

“So, it’s true then. Archangel Michael lives,” said Lucifer.

“Formally Michael, now I am Azrael,” he responded.

“Yes, yes you are,” stated Lucifer. The two Archangels stared at each other. The tension between them could be felt in the room.

“A new power is rising, Lucifer. One stands in defiance to you and your followers,” said Azrael. Lucifer smiled, unnerved by the blanket threat.

“Words do not win battles, young angel. Do you know how many powerful gods serve under me? The force I can bring to bear upon you and your friends?” asked Lucifer.

“If you want a war, Brightstar, come see me,” stated Azrael. Lucifer then ordered Zarakoth to deal with the angel alone. Xathaniel was called back to hell. Before he could speak, Lilith used her magic to teleport the Nephilim to the throne room in hell. Once there, Xathanael could do nothing except watch. He needed Zarakoth to win, for both their sake. Together alone, the powerful Dragon king unsheathed his mighty curved sword. He then fully extended his wings, hoping to inspire fear in the young angel. His nostril flared and growled at him, showing a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth.

“You think you inspire fear? You know nothing of the word,” Zarakoth snarled. Azrael was not fazed. Instead, he cracked his neck and loosened his shoulders as if preparing for a sparring match.

“Are you going to keep talking, or are you gonna shut your trap and fight?” stated Azrael.