He was inhaling the salty air when dawn broke. Her words lingered.

  A war we're losing.

  He pushed the thought aside as the morning greeted him with gentle Light filtering through the curtains. He headed to the bathroom, where he examined himself and his new outfit with interest. He'd grown taller again. The armor he once considered ordinary now gleamed with golden trim and intricate ornamentation. The chainmail was sturdier than ever before. Among the angels, their equipment had started to differ; each set had its own character.

  His belonged to the medium?heavy category; it wasn’t a massive knight’s plate like Radion’s, but an ensemble suited for movement on the battlefield. Fine golden trim, inset gems, and more detailed engravings gave it a distinct, almost regal character. He still couldn’t summon a shield from his Lumion and had only his enormous, broad two?handed sword, which looked far more impressive than his previous one.

  The blade was a clean span of pure metal, honed to an edge on both sides. The guard resembled a great winged golden cross, with a silver-lined grip and a sharp pommel of solid diamond.

  After a thorough check, he was checking his face in the mirror.

  Would a bit of stubble suit me for a change?

  Here, everything was simple: Light could alter even the smallest detail in the blink of an eye. He could change his clothes, his hairstyle, adjust his facial features, or grow a beard at will. Most guardians didn't use these options, or at least as far as he knew. Appearance held little importance here. In the end, he changed his mind and decided to stick with his usual earthly look.

  After a brief moment of admiration, he stepped out onto the terrace, enjoying the morning air and his traditional drink. The sun warmed his face, and he savored a few minutes of silence before his Lumion reminded him it was time to head out. Even though he no longer needed sleep, old habits died hard.

  At the barracks, a cheerful crowd greeted him. He smiled and nodded to both sides. Their silver armor shone, bathed in the morning sun. In the center, Vesaria was already waiting, her expression calm yet authoritative. “Welcome, Rendil. Long night?”

  He nodded in agreement.

  “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.” She waved. “There are more possibilities at night than you’d expect, but now we have duties. Come on, everyone to the main courtyard!” she commanded.

  The assembled squads awaited her; Vesaria stood on a low pedestal.

  She looked at him. “Step forward, Rendil.”

  At first, he looked around awkwardly, but quickly realized she really meant him. Heart pounding, he stepped forward. At Vesaria's sides stood Synaa, Arion, and six other captains; behind them were angels from the second branch, fully armored and helmeted, looking like majestic statues. Rendil felt nervous.

  Vesaria stood with her sword planted in the sandstone before her, both hands resting on the pommel. The guard was trimmed with gold, covering the entire handle, and fine fibers gave it the impression of a mane. At the front was a lion’s head with an open maw and shining cat eyes: beautifully decorated, a massive two-handed weapon.

  “Kneel, Rendil.” She nodded to the ground.

  He obeyed. Vesaria raised her sword into the air, which immediately blazed with holy fire, and passed it over his shoulders.

  “May the eternal Light bless you! Rise, Captain Rendil!” she proclaimed.

  He rose, his expression solemn.

  “It’s official now,” she whispered. “Branches, salute the new captain!”

  The soldiers joyfully raised their weapons and hailed Rendil. He raised his blade and turned to the assembly. After a while, silence fell. “Thank you all! Without many of you, I wouldn’t have made it and wouldn’t be standing here today. May your Light shine true!”

  “And may yours shine as well!” they replied.

  Chills ran down his spine; he couldn’t quite control his feelings, seeing such a large crowd cheering for him...

  Vesaria’s voice echoed across the courtyard. “Dismissed! Everyone, return to your duties!”

  Finally, his body relaxed a little, his heartbeat slowed, and he exhaled, feeling the weight lift from his shoulders.

  When the emotions settled, Synaa and Arion approached him.

  Synaa took off her helmet and let it hang at her side, revealing warm copper-to-chocolate skin. Her blond hair was gathered back into smooth, shining strands, with a few loose locks softly framing her face. She gave him a quick, mischievous smile.

  Next to her walked Arion, his appearance as distinctive as ever: dark skin and thick, mid?length hair brushed back from his forehead. When he spoke, his deep voice resonated in the air.

  “Congratulations again, Rendil!” Arion said.

  “And from me as well! Today, you’ll be training with me. Arion will oversee the others,” Synaa said.

  “I understand. When do we start?” He asked.

  “Right now,” she replied, a spark in her eyes.

  A nearby guardian stumbled, armor clanking as he caught his balance. By the time Rendil looked back, Synaa had vanished. When he looked up, he saw her already flying high in the clouds. He flapped his wings and followed her. They flew over the fortress, wind whistling past his ears, his heart pounding with excitement.

  After landing, Synaa explained briefly: “First, you’ll learn to control your flight, practice speed and agility. You must know how to dodge attacks, dive at the enemy, and slow down in time so you don’t break your legs on landing and still hit your target hard enough. Let’s try it. Follow me!” She flapped her wings and shot up.

  They soared high. Rendil tried, but couldn’t keep up with Synaa. He managed regular flight, but at that speed, his wings wouldn’t obey.

  “Breathe, focus.” Her voice drifted down from above, calm and steady. “Spread your wings to glide. If you want to speed up, bring them closer to your body, but watch your altitude. Your goal is to fly fast and stay level.”

  Rendil exhaled slowly and tried again. They trained all day, circling the fortress. Rendil gradually improved, but still couldn’t match Synaa’s speed.

  In the evening, they landed on the training ground. “You did pretty well,” she praised him. “We’ll continue tomorrow. When you’re done in the barracks, come to the third floor of the Keep.” They parted ways, and the day’s training finally caught up with him. He could no longer feel his wings or legs. Barely standing, he made his way back to the barracks.

  He made an effort to sit with the squads under his command, those without their own lieutenant. He tried to check in with every member and get along with them, but he couldn’t wait to finally sit with his own group. When their turn finally came, he’d saved them for last. They greeted him with raised glasses. The table was covered with every imaginable dish. He sat down and helped himself.

  “You’ve really left us behind,” Artur teased. “Captain? That’s really something. My brain still can’t believe it.”

  “That’s because there’s not much of it.” Yassin smacked him on the back.

  Werner, as always, took over. “A whole day with Captain Synaa? What’s she like? Besides Radion, we don’t really know the captains that well.”

  Rendil thought for a moment and said, “Strict! And fast,” he added with a smile.

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  “So fast, huh?” Artur jumped on that, grinning.

  Hans reined him in. “Come on, you know how it is. We’re under oath; there’s no place for earthly desires here. Besides, you saw him, he trained all day. It takes years of coaching before you become a full-fledged captain.”

  “It won’t be easy at all,” Carlos chimed in.

  “What do you know about it?” Yoshiro joined in. “He’ll manage, as always. He’s our Captain Prodigy!” He raised his glass.

  “Why Prodigy?” Rendil asked.

  “Don’t mind it. It’s your new nickname,” Mona whispered to him.

  He was surprised they saw him in such a light. His progress didn’t feel so fast to him; quite the opposite, it felt like he’d been there forever. Everyone was glad to have a captain in the wake of Radion’s death.

  After a while, Elion joined them. He brought his favorite game and couldn’t wait for the next match. All night, as always, they teased and bantered, played board games, and encouraged each other. Eventually, everyone went to bed, and Rendil was already curious about what would happen on the third floor of the Main Tower.

  He climbed the main courtyard stairs and entered a spacious hall. At its center was a broad, circular marble table, where seven people were seated. But there were fifteen empty chairs. Vesaria, Arion, and Synaa were there, as well as a high angel and captains from his branch.

  “Come, sit with us; you have a seat next to me,” Synaa said, pointing to a chair.

  As he approached, everyone stood.

  “Welcome to our table, Captain Rendil; it’s our honor. May your Light shine true!” High captain standing next to Vesaria said.

  “And may yours shine true as well,” Rendil replied.

  “My name is Cassian; this is Miriel, next to her is Caladriel and Ramiros,” he said with his palm moving around the table as he introduced names.

  “Rendil,” he introduced himself simply.

  He studied Cassian's blue and yellow robe and deep water-blue eyes with pale irises. His thick brown hair was braided in plaits that framed his ears. He was very large and muscular, with warmly tanned skin and a deep, pleasant voice. He struck Rendil as Nordic, much like Elion.

  “We know you were appointed by Archangel Ariel herself,” Cassian noted.

  Rendil nodded.

  “We’re glad to have a temporary replacement for Captain Radion. It’s going to be a long seventeen years.” His gaze dropped.

  “That’s true. The captain is my personal friend, and I deeply regret that he was impaled by Leviathan’s trident.” He stayed quiet for a moment then spoke again. “Where are all the other captains?” Rendil asked.

  Vesaria said softly, “Many are on patrols, overseeing the delivery of Light to the smaller nearby settlements. And a few, unfortunately, are hanging on the Tree...” Then she looked around and nodded.

  Everyone sat down, and the discussion flowed more freely.

  Cassian remarked, “Yes, at first it looked very bad; their wicked plan cost us dearly. But thanks to excellent strategy, everything turned around and we repaid the enemy’s blow,” With his elbow on the table, he clenched his hand into fist.

  Rendil had noticed Synaa’s blue eyes before, but for the first time he really saw how deep they were and how strongly they contrasted with her blond hair. A smile lit up her thin lips. As his gaze moved around the table, he noticed Vesaria with the same dark brown hair in a massive, intricate braid. Out of their armor, they seemed more approachable, more human.

  Cassian asked, “Vesaria, how long do you estimate for your and Arion’s recovery?”

  “Two months for Arion,” Vesaria replied. “I should be battle-ready in three.”

  “That’s good,” he exhaled. “Until then, I’ll take over all outpost patrols with my captains. By all accounts, it should be mostly quiet.”

  Thats good. I need calm during my training. Until I am ready...

  “The enemy suffered a heavy blow. Even with five Gates under their control, Leviathan will take decades to regenerate, and on the Sixth Level of Hell, Azazel will try to reduce Leviathan’s influence as much as possible, which will cause even more schisms between them and give us a better chance to rest.” Cassian said.

  “What are the reports from other fortresses and the capital?” Vesaria looked at Ramiros.

  “Just minor skirmishes with the enemy; all rifts have been closed. Nothing major; just a few barons and regular hounds near the northernmost part.” Ramiros replied.

  Then she turned her gaze and asked, “Synaa, you were tasked with Rendil’s initial training. How is he doing?” Vesaria asked.

  Synaa replied in a steady voice. “He’s doing well, but he has a lot of work ahead before he gains full control over his wings, maybe a year or two. Then we can move on to fighting with his weapon.”

  All eyes turned to him.

  “What weapon do you have?” Cassian asked.

  Rendil stood quiet.

  “Take your Lumion and show us.” Cassian pointed looking up.

  He grabbed his Lumion and switched into his armor, holding his new sword.

  “Hmmm, so you’re more of an offensive type. You probably don’t know much about this, because regular soldiers hardly differ from each other,” Vesaria said in her firm voice, beginning to explain. “They have standard armor, which includes a sword, shield, spear, and bow. Through training, we find out what’s dominant for them and try to apply it in battle. They remain very versatile.” Vesaria said, eyes fixed on him.

  “Those better with a bow stand in the back, those with spear and shield in front. Those who prefer the sword are put more on the flanks to strengthen the sides of formations. At the first awakening of the halo, the first differences start to appear.”

  Yes, that I have noticed.

  “Your connection with the Light deepens, and you also sense your strengths better; your armor begins to adapt to that. The differences are still small; sometimes you might have a different weapon instead of a sword.” She leaned back in her chair, arm resting on the armrest, hand pointing forward.

  “For example, your friend Elion; he still has a sword, but now he also has an ax because of his Viking past and self?perception. Advancing to captain, this deepens even more, and some weapons disappear completely, as the Light concentrates your abilities on your strongest traits.” She paused ,looking him in the eyes.

  “Your main advantage is free movement on the battlefield. You used to fight with a shield, but subconsciously you prefer a single large sword, which we’ll teach you to use for defense as well. Now, as a captain, since you’ll fight more often outside formations, this fighting style will be even more useful. It will be similar, if not the same, as mine.” She lowered her arm and continued.

  “Radion was more of a knight like Michael and focused on balanced defense and attack. But there are soldiers who are fast and agile and use surprise on the battlefield; they use a simple dagger or short sword and bow.” She nodded toward Synaa.

  “Yes, I still have a bow,” he said, pulling it from his Lumion. “I’m missing a spear, a shield, and my one-handed sword,” Rendil noted.

  “It seems we’ve figured out your fighting style. There are high angels and archangels who use only a spear in battle. It’s a style where you can maintain distance from multiple enemies; your attacks are much longer-reaching, but weaker than with a two?handed sword. Everything has its advantages and disadvantages,” Cassian concluded.

  “That’s why I’ll take over the second phase of your training,” Vesaria said calmly. “Synaa is agile and uses her crossbow and short daggers for many attacks. Arion is more defensive with his spear and shield, just like Radion.”

  “Thank you,” Rendil replied.

  “Enough formalities!” Cassian burst out. “Come on, let’s have some wine! And let’s better get to know each other; we have many such evenings ahead.”

  The red slid down, softening his throat. Silky, with a long finish, it helped ease the formality. Engineers and managers had given way to warriors, but the hierarchy felt familiar: the same top?down structure he'd carried for years.

  A firm voice spoke, “I’m Cassian, high captain under Archangel Ariel; I’ve been an angel for eons. I fight with my large shield and hammer! I love music and have always been fascinated by the development of technology across the spheres. I heard you’ve worked a lot with computers. I’d love to talk to you about that sometime.” He leaned closer.

  They went around the table. Although the angels' stories shared the same beginning, their pasts differed only in details, maybe in different battles; their personalities were colorful and unique. They all knew each other deeply, having fought together for ages, yet each had their own way of perceiving Light, duty, or friendship.

  When it was Rendil’s turn, the room fell silent. His story was different from the others; he spoke of family, three sons and a little daughter, of dreams and goals that drove him in life, and of what gives him strength to go on today. His words carried a deep humanity that the angels could never fully relate to. Around the table, ancient eyes watched him with something like longing. They'd fought for eons and never experienced anything he'd just described. They chatted like this until early morning, before parting to enjoy some peace in their quarters.

  After a few weeks, once he'd mastered the basics of flight, she taught him how to focus Light into his wings to increase speed and control. Another time, she showed him how best to twist his wings to the sides and do aerial spins. Weeks turned into months.

  His wings cramped. He overshot. He stalled mid-spin and had to catch himself before hitting the ground. Eventually, muscle memory took over. Once he mastered all that, they moved on to diving; he had to learn to stop as close to the ground as possible.

  She explained a trick he’d seen Radion use a few times: fire a Light attack to throw the enemy off balance, then dive at them so the impact was strong enough for the enemy to really feel it. The trick was not to break yourself in the process. She showed him only the flying part; Vesaria would go over Light attacks with him later.

  On his first attempt, he came in too fast and panicked. He flared his wings early and managed a clumsy but soft landing. Synaa hovered, unimpressed. “Stop bracing for the hit. Hold your nerve. Flare later.”

  This will be harder than I thought.

  He was exhausted; Synaa was relentless. Months passed, and he began to make the sky his own. Each time he more or less mastered a maneuver, she added a harder one. He crashed hard a few times and had to be healed; after that, she was truly unforgiving. She wasn’t like any trainer he’d known before. Ten-minute breaks still existed, but stretching them with talk of his children didn’t work for long; she read the ploy and pressed him harder.

  The last bad fall came at dusk: a shallow dive that buckled his knees and cracked a bone in his right leg. Synaa said nothing; she knelt beside him, took his weight under the arm, and helped him limp to the infirmary.

  As they walked, she said quietly, “You held your nerve. That's progress.”

  After a year, he could see the results; he was an experienced flyer and a threat in the clouds.

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