“The Golden Cathedral is way smaller than usual, also less golden.” The Savior turned his head back, staring at Jeremiah who simply stood behind him.

  He was right, no longer an infinitely expanding space it now had a straightforward entrance. A singular brown door which contrasted the pristine white checkered color-scheme across the walls. The floorings were mosiacs of Saints and Angels— former Saints and Angels. Where The Savior stood on, his feet and tail whipping against the illustration of Lianous Cragis. A tear in the Lusted’s right eye as it gazed below to where Jeremiah stood. The mosiac of Alabendo’s corpse, laying in a chair within a dark room.

  “It’s been a while.” Jeremiah sighed, churning the lolipop in his mouth. He walked past The Savior, pushing the panel forward as the door revealed.

  A vast and large room, at the end were the typical windows. Large, boisteorus and clerestory. A colour-scheme of red and white intertwined within the enterity of the room. As the two stepped in. There was no more decoration, no fancy items in display as the Throne Room of the past faded into obscurity. Leaving only a handful of people.

  “J—Jeremiah?” Rosamire startled, she had been leaning on the door but felt a budge causing her to stumble back.

  Kanae was huddled at the right side of the room, alongside: Lucius, Anubis, Tagma and Abriam. All of the Rebels standing on a mosiac of Paris Guildford model posing.

  “Demon-Child, we told you to stay back.” Anubis scoffed, a glare sent toward the man before his gaze landed on The Savior. He budged the arm of Kanae who tilted his head back, his eyes meeting with The Savior’s.

  “I never thought I’d actually see the Invalian Mutilator’s face in person.” The Leader of the Cassettes shot a smirk, “What a surprise, a welcome one.”

  “I am not afraid to correct you— I am the Savior.”

  “T—The Savior?” Ilya’s head lifted off the ground. She was in a fetal position on the left side of the room, bowing her head down to a mosiac of Miles Phillips giving a thumbs up. Nyx was cuddling her, looking at the Imp before returning his gaze.

  “Don’t stress yourself…”

  “Ma! I think that Ma is dead!”

  “Emilia Phillips?” Jeremiah raised his eyebrow, entering the room as The Savior followed— the door slamming shut. “I have no doubts that she was one of the casualites.”

  “Kehehe.” The Savior covered his mouth, attempting to contain his laughter as both he and Jeremiah stepped onto the silhoutte of a dark, shadowy Amarze.

  “What’s so funny?” Lucius coldly questioned.

  The Savior lifted his right hand, his index pointing at the unconscious Xeras who lay right beside the windows at the end of the room. “Does a sleeping fool not amuse you as well?”

  “Wait.” Abriam looked left to right, “Who just touched me?”

  “Uh.” Tagma’s expression changed from hostility to confusion as a sweat droplet left his cheek, “What are you on about buddy?”

  Abriam repeatedly stomped his feet, the depression on his head jolting up and down as water splashed. “Someone! Touched! ME!”

  “Just imagine if your girlfriend was here right now.” Anubis sighed before grabbing the Kappa by the collar. “This is a serious moment! Why are you trying to make light of it—”

  “Wait a minute.” Ilya lifted her head up, “Where’s—”

  The Savior felt a palm on his back.

  The others looked behind to see Zachariah putting his hand on The Savior, a cold expression on his face.

  “Z—Zachariah!” Nyx yelped, “Are you going to seriously kill him on sacred grounds?”

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  “Oh ho ho.” The Savior was going to lean his head back but a second hand slapped it back forward.

  “I’ve been waiting to get my hands on you.” The First Angel to command none smiled, his grin illuminating the room more than the chandeliers above.

  “I don’t recall ever meeting you, are you the Zachariah Timpleson who took over Amarze’s post?”

  “I don’t know how that information got to Ostra of all places, but yes it is me.”

  “Retribution for Elliot?” The Savior’s right hand shook at the ground.

  Zachariah’s gaze turned to Jeremiah who stood beside him, “Hello Jeremy.”

  The Demon-Child stepped back, pushing his arms forward as he slurred the lollipop in his mouth. “Zachariah…”

  The Angel’s gaze then lept back to The Savior, “This is all in the name of Super-Peace. If I drown you right now, I am assured that the fate of everyone will be better.”

  “Drown me?” The Savior’s eyes then darted to Abriam, “Oh.. you touched him, how smart.”

  (“Don’t flatter this bastard! You already prepared the spears to turn him into a sacrifical lamb!”)

  “Quiet!” The Savior roared, “I will kill this false Angel when I desire to”. His eyes looked around the room, nobody moved but everyone watched. Not in an attempt to save but as if it was spectacle.

  “I’d ask if you have any last words but I am really not in the mood to hear some rambling, this is how your story ends.”

  (“Oh, if that’s how it’s going to go. Make it hurt.”)

  A large bubble began to export from Zachariah’s right palm but…

  “Lord.” The Savior sang.

  “Huh?”

  “Lord see my heart as a just tale for redemption.

  My Lord I understand and keep away from temptation.

  I will destroy my enemies with a path of glory.

  Return and kill those who oppose me.

  I apologise to those who finished.

  Before my exam was over, I diminished.

  The resultants of hundreds I’ve killed.

  Or perhaps we did more to fit the bill.

  Torm—”

  The Savior was about grow but.

  Thud.

  Thud.

  Thud.

  He stumbled back, falling into the arms of Zachariah whose bubble dissipated. Both collapsing to the ground as everyone who was standing fell as well.

  Xeras still remained asleep as ripples and shockwaves throughout reality distorted. Where the throne was, a rift was beginning to open. Lumiscient colours flickering as a figure sat on the seat.

  The rumbling of the ‘realm’ of the Cathedral stopped.

  Ash floated through the air, same with smoke as everyone began to stand back up.

  “Who dare interrupt my sermon!” The Savior shot up first, a glowing bright spiral within both of his eyes. Twitching as he roared. But it then stopped, as his fangs growled. Standing on a mosiac of an unfamiliar individual, dressed in a black trench-coat.

  (“Don’t cause a scene! You know this energy.”)

  Ilya groaned, being helped up by Nyx as her eyes laid on the throne. “It’s… Amarze!”

  Everyone’s head spun toward the throne as the former First Angel laughed. Dressed as if he never left Floria, itching the top of the sackcloth around his head as he giggled like a child. The seat no longer being of tentacles but instead scaffolding of decaying statues—stone figures of long-dead mortals straining to hold up Amarze. A red aura formating around him.

  “Hahaha.” Zachariah’s right eye twitched, as he let out a coarse laugh, “I know this guy!”

  “Amarze Judae…” Rosamire’s jaw dropped, “But the Lord said you coul—”

  “I didn’t do anything!” He roared, “It came to me!”

  Anubis recollected with the Rebels, mummuring.

  “First we have a bubbling drunkard ‘God’ lying on the floor. Now we have the same person that he exiled five or so years ago.”

  Tagma itched his fingers, “I don’t doubt that all the worlds are ending now. Too much looney.”

  “Do you think those who left the Cathedral and went to Ostra actually will succeed?” Abriam lifted a finger as Kanae shook his head.

  “I don’t know that bastard Medea but if he’s anything like the dissapointent right there. I wouldn’t get my hopes up.”

  “Uh! Hello!” A foreign voice woke everyone up from their seperate conversations.

  It was the female seraphim who stood right next to Xeras’ body.

  Nyx budged Ilya, “Do you know who that is?”

  The Platinum tapped her chin, “If I’m the first and I saw all but the fifth leave— this must be the fifth so… Ishtar?”

  “Ishtar?” Zachariah’s ears perked, “The one right below Azrael?”

  “Is he the only one you know other than me?”

  “You. Azrael. Babael. That’s all.”

  “Forgetting Bub.” Nyx folded his arms.

  “Stop!” Ishtar’s voice peaked again.

  “What do you want woman!” The Savior turned away from Amarze, “You hold less importance than the very own genocider of my own land!”

  (“The cursed one! Amarze Judae!”)

  “I hate him! Hate him! Hate him! I’m going to.” The Savior pointed his left hand at the throne directly as saliva seethed out his jaw. “I’ll pene—”

  “Don’t kill him!” Ishtar ran in front of the throne.

  “What even are you?”

  “I’m a Seraphim! This is an Angel! The strongest one, perhaps? But that’s not the point! Yes, our world has been basically destroyed but we can still band together!”

  “And do what?” Kanae scoffed, “Take down Samiel? If a bunch of your Angels died against a God— what the hell are the Cassettes supposed to do?”

  “If we all band together! We can win!”

  “Yeah!” Zachariah jumped in the air, “If we win! It’s Super-Peace!”

  “What exactly is Super-Peace?” Amarze leaned forward, “Not to interrupt this woman’s screams but also what is a Seraphim?”

  (“DEATH! KILL THEM ALL! RETRIBUTION AS THE SAVIOR!”)

  “No! Stop! We—” The Savior clutched his head, falling toward the ground.

  But nobody even moved to notice.

  Nobody cared.