Chapter 5

  The air crackled with tension as Gabriel’s aura flared, radiant and oppressive, leaving the assembled archangels stunned into silence.

  Michael forced a strained smile, his composure cracking under the weight of Gabriel’s presence. “Damn... he wasn’t bluffing,” he muttered, his hands balling into fists.

  Before anyone could react, Gabriel lunged forward, his fist a blur. Michael raised his arms to block, but the sheer impact splintered his bones. He stumbled back, his hands twitching in pain.

  If he hadn’t warned me about surpassing Samael in strength, I’d be dead already, Michael thought, his mind racing as he cast [Job: Divine Healing], mending the fractures.

  Gabriel sneered. “What’s wrong, Michael? Already struggling to keep up?”.

  Michael’s teeth were clenched as he barely dodged Gabriel’s next strike. A sharp kick landed square in his gut, hurling him across the battlefield.

  “Pathetic,” Azrael cackled from the sidelines. “He’s getting destroyed.”

  Raphael crossed his arms, smirking. “It’s almost like when he fought Samael. You remember, don’t you?”

  Uriel blinked in confusion. “Lord Michael fought Master Samael before?”

  Raphael sighed. “Once, when we were newly recruited. Michael challenged Samael for leadership. He wasn’t happy Samael tortured fallen angels, but it wasn’t a fight—it was a slaughter.”

  “Is this the incident you were talking about?” Uriel asked.

  Ariel nodded, her voice sombre. “It wasn’t just a defeat. It was humiliating. Samael was still young at the time, so he was far more brutal.”

  The memory hung heavy in the air, and Metatron’s voice cut through like a blade. “Uriel, enough! Watch the fight.”

  Uriel flinched under Metatron’s glare. “Y-yes, Lord Metatron.”

  “Don’t be so harsh,” Raphael teased, casting Metatron a knowing look. “You hate when people bring up that incident. Why not laugh about it for once?”

  “Because some of us value dignity,” Metatron snapped before turning his attention back to the fight.

  Meanwhile, Michael was finding his rhythm. Gabriel’s relentless attacks, while overwhelming, were growing predictable.

  He’s catching on, Gabriel realised, a flicker of unease crossing his face. If I don’t end this now, I’ll lose my edge.

  Gabriel raised his hand, summoning [Genesis and Isaiah: Absolute Divine Lightning Lances], a series of radiant, crackling spears. The radiant spears rained down, each strike exploding with devastating force.

  Michael countered with [Psalms and Numbers: Enhanced Protection of the Lord], conjuring a shimmering dome. But one lance pierced through, striking his chest and sending arcs of lightning through his soul.

  Seizing the moment, Gabriel closed the distance and delivered a brutal uppercut, sending Michael crashing into the ceiling.

  “Is that it?” Ariel gasped; her voice tinged with disbelief.

  Azrael snorted. “That was boring.”

  Meanwhile, Jophiel and Uriel looked in awe at the prowess of an archangel.

  What unyielding strength, so that is the level of an archangel. “Lady Ariel, is this how short the fights are?”

  “Well, it’s usually longer only because brother enjoys torturing his opponents to teach them a lesson.”

  “I don’t understand why he does that. Training is always hell for me.”

  “You are the longest to train with him. We all quit after a while.”

  “I don’t think I can... he won’t let me.”

  Yet, as Gabriel raised his arms in triumph, the battlefield shifted. A shadow loomed behind him.

  Michael lands a roundhouse kick, which sends him tumbling.

  Gabriel froze. “What the—? How...?”

  “Look up,” Michael said calmly.

  Gabriel glanced above him and saw the faint outline of a clone disappearing into the mist.

  “A clone?” Gabriel grits his teeth. “When did you swap?”

  Michael smirked. “Figure it out.”

  Before Gabriel could process it, he fell to his knees, clutching his head in pain.

  “What did you do to me?” he growled.

  Michael smirked, “I added [Leviticus: Punishment of sin] to my attack. You won’t be able to heal now.”

  “Smart move,” Gabriel admitted through gritted teeth. “Wearing me down since you can’t match me physically.”

  “You are a tough one, you know? That kick was meant to end the fight.” Michael took his fighting stance and darted forward, attacking with calculated precision. Gabriel managed to parry most of the attacks, but each blow took its toll, his movements growing slower and sloppier.

  What is going on? Am I going to lose? No. I will not allow myself to. Filled with determination, he managed to dodge one of Michael’s attacks and land a counterattack. With a roar, he puts all his strength into the punch, enchanting it [Isaiah: Divine lightning] and [Acts: Holy fire], which removed Michael’s head clean off.

  However, before he can catch his breath, Michael stabs his back with Caliburn, his sacred sword. Caliburn—The sword of selection is a long katana that is gold from top to bottom with a purple cord wrap.

  Another clone? Damn it. Gabriel coughs blood.

  “Your instincts are remarkable,” Michael said, his voice even. “You dodged just enough for me to miss your heart. But this—”

  Gabriel interrupted with a growl, gripping the blade despite the searing heat of Michael’s grace. “Don’t patronise me. I haven’t lost yet.”

  Frost began to spread from Gabriel’s hands as he unleashed [Genesis plus Numbers: Absolute Zero Flash Freeze]. The temperature plummeted, encasing Michael and Caliburn in ice.

  Michael ignited his golden flames, flames second only to Samael’s in terms of intensity and power. The heat began melting the ice, but Gabriel had anticipated this. Rhongomyniad—Gabriel’s golden spear—plunged through both of them, shattering Michael’s heart. Gabriel collapsed, coughing blood.

  “That... incredible,” Azrael whispered in awe.

  “Hardcore,” Raphael agreed.

  Gabriel then senses another slash coming, blocks it, and kicks Michael in the gut, sending him flying and causing him to bleed.

  “How did you—"

  “Instinct,” Gabriel said simply, cutting off Michael’s question.

  Gabriel’s voice rang out as he unleashed [Genesis: Purification], amplifying it with the full force of his divine grace. Golden lightning erupted across the battlefield, lancing through Michael and his clones. The burst obliterated the clones in a blinding flash, leaving Michael badly scorched and staggered.

  Michael dropped to one knee, his vision blurred and his soul numb. Blood poured from his nose and mouth. He struggled to rise, fighting against his weakness.

  Seizing the moment, Gabriel pressed forward, unleashing a series of vicious thrusts. But even in his weakened state, Michael’s will remained unbroken. He narrowly avoided every thrust aimed at his internal organs and, with uncanny precision, deflected most of Gabriel’s attacks, forcing him to sidestep a brutal slash aimed at his neck.

  Gabriel’s vision was hazed from the strain of his injuries, and his stance faltered. I can’t keep this up anymore, I need to land a critical strike.

  Michael, ever the observer, broke the silence with a mocking smile. “Your poker face is good,” he said, his tone laced with both admiration and disdain. He paused only long enough to stop the bleeding with mana.

  Gabriel’s teeth clenched. He noticed.

  “But it’s time I ended this.” Michael’s voice turned cold, a promise of finality in his words.

  He shifted into the Von Tag stance, amplifying his grace and precision with the divine art of [Leviticus: Anointing]. Across the battlefield, Gabriel adjusted his grip on his lance, muscles tensing like coiled springs. With a roar, he advanced, spear aimed for Michael’s heart.

  But Michael moved like a shadow. His counters were swift and merciless, every strike slicing through Gabriel’s defences. Blood seeped from his wounds as he staggered back, his body lined with fresh cuts.

  Gritting his teeth, Gabriel hurled his lance with all his strength. The weapon tore through the air like a thunderbolt, but Michael met it head-on. His blade rose in an arc, deflecting the lance with such force that he skidded backwards, heels digging into the ground.

  Before Michael could recover, Gabriel leapt forward. He volleyed the lance in mid-air, aiming for Michael’s blind spot. Michael spun, deflecting it skyward, but Gabriel snatched it back in one fluid motion, bringing it down in a vicious stab.

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  Michael sidestepped just in time, the lance embedding itself in the ground. Gabriel, undeterred, seized the opening. His foot lashed out in a spin kick, crashing into Michael’s chest with bone-crunching force. Michael grunted as the impact broke through his guard, staggering him.

  The arena fell silent. Every angel stood in reverence, the air thick with tension.

  “Guh—” Michael coughed, trying to steady himself.

  Lightning crackled across Gabriel’s lance. Bolts lashed out at Michael, striking him repeatedly. The searing pain forced him to drop to one knee just as Gabriel hurled his lance again.

  A glint of triumph sparked in Michael’s eyes. This ends now, he thought, his resolve as unyielding as tempered steel.

  The lance, though thrown with skill, lacked its usual force. Gabriel’s injuries had weakened him. Michael charged forward, flipping over the lance mid-flight, snatching it from the air, and hurling it back in a single, seamless motion.

  “What the—?!” Gabriel’s eyes widened in shock.

  No matter. I’ll catch it.

  As the lance neared him, Gabriel sidestepped to dodge before reaching out to grab it. As he grabbed it, the lance’s speed increased as though it was thrown a second time; the sudden force dislocated his shoulder with a sickening crack, reopening his wounds.

  Gabriel stumbled, bracing himself to stay upright, but Michael was already upon him.

  Desperation flared in Gabriel’s eyes as he switched the lance to his left hand. Pivoting, he used the momentum of his turn to deliver a full-power thrust, aiming to end it all. But Michael was too fast. He sidestepped the blow and, with a single brutal swing of his blade, severed Gabriel’s right hand.

  Gabriel roared in agony but refused to yield. Clutching his lance with his remaining hand, he thrust again, but the result was the same. Michael sidestepped, his blade slicing cleanly through Gabriel’s left wrist.

  Michael wasted no time. With cold precision, he drove his blade forward, aiming for Gabriel’s chest.

  Yet Gabriel refused to fall. With an almost inhuman effort, he clenched the lance in his mouth, shocking even Michael.

  How does he still have this much strength? His tolerance is beyond belief.

  Gabriel attacked one final time, aiming for Michael’s throat. But his effort fell short. Michael moved with lethal grace, dodging the strike and delivering a decisive slash.

  Gabriel’s head fell, and he collapsed. The battle was over.

  A thunderous cheer erupted across heaven, the angels roaring their approval. Michael stood tall, bloodied but victorious. He raised his blade high, his voice cutting through the noise.

  “I claim my place as leader of the archangels!”

  The arena trembled, and a new era began. Gabriel and Michael were taken to the infirmary to heal their injuries, and the rest of the archangels left to do their duties.

  After a while, Samael woke up in his quarters, groaning. “Damn it! My head... What happened?” he muttered, pressing a hand to his temple. He activated [Job: Healing], feeling the soothing mana knit his injuries back together. Rising unsteadily, he walked to the mirror and froze.

  “What the?!” he exclaimed, staring at the reflection of his glowing crimson eye. Panic rising, Samael channelled mana into the eye, watching as it returned to its normal state. He sighed heavily.

  “So…my corruption worsens when I overuse my mana. Fantastic,” he said sarcastically.

  Determined to push on, Samael left his room and joined the meeting Michael had called as the new leader of the archangels.

  “You’ve finally decided to crawl out of bed? Took you long enough,” Michael remarked, his tone sharp.

  Samael ignored the jibe, his focus unshaken. “We need to kill Azazel now while he’s weakened.”

  Michael’s eyes narrowed. “Hey! I’m the leader now, and I didn’t permit you to speak!”

  “Oh, forgive me, fearless leader. Enlighten us—how do you plan to defeat Azazel?” Samael asked in a mocking tone.

  Michael bristled, anger flaring. “You dare mock me?!”

  Ariel chuckled softly. “As nonchalant as ever, brother.”

  “Hmm... It’s amusing, really,” Michael said, smirking. “You’re the weakest one here, and yet you still undermine me.”

  “Relax, Michael, I was only joking. I’d never undermine your ‘authority’... The floor is yours.” He sat back, gesturing for Michael to continue.

  Michael glared at him but forced himself to regain composure. “Now, let’s get to business. We have a new addition to our table... Uriel. Samael’s heir. And, potentially, his replacement.”

  Raphael chuckled, and the others followed suit. All except Azrael, who is angered by this decision.

  “Was the last part necessary?” Samael muttered, rolling his eyes.

  “Why is he here? He’s not an archangel,” Azrael pointed out.

  “Well,” Michael replied, “let’s be honest—Uriel is the next archangel. No offence, Ariel.”

  Ariel shrugged. “It’s obvious he is stronger than Amenediel. No offence taken.”

  “Anyway, about Azazel...” Michael sighed. “I hate to admit it, but Samael’s right. We need to take him down now, or we’re finished. So, oh ‘great leader, ’ what’s your plan?”

  “Simple,” Samael said. “We attack tomorrow.”

  Michael laughed bitterly. “That’s your plan? Have you completely lost it?”

  What kind of plan is that? He thought.

  “Attacking as early as possible gives us the highest chance of victory…That’s the ‘kind’ of plan it is.”

  Michael’s expression shifted, shock flickering in his eyes. Wait... Did he just read my mind?

  Yes, I did, Samael answered telepathically.

  Stop it now.

  No need to get angry, try protecting your mind better.

  “Michael, you look shaken,” Raphael observed. “What’s wrong?”

  Michael quickly recovered. “Nothing to worry about. Right, Samael?”

  “Of course,” Samael said. “And for the record, I’ll take down Azazel myself—since none of you can.”

  “You can’t!” Raphael protested. “If you do, the corruption will consume you. You’ll be out of commission—or worse, join our enemy.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll do it… He is my brother… I must be the one to put him down,” Azrael declared, though his voice wavered for the briefest moment.

  “You think you can defeat him alone? What a silly joke. Who else has a suggestion?”

  “Regardless of what you say, I will defeat him. It is my burden to bear,” Azrael insisted, his eyes flickering with determination—and something else, perhaps regret.

  “I admire your spirit, but… confidence will get you nowhere,” Samael replied, narrowing his eyes. Why would Azrael want to kill his brother? They have always been on good terms, unless… Samael’s eyes widened as the truth dawned on him. Interesting.

  “Then train me,” Azrael challenged. “If I fail, you can interfere.”

  Ariel placed a hand on Samael’s shoulder. “Brother, take the offer. We can’t lose you.”

  “Fine,” Samael relented, though his expression remained sceptical. “But know this—if you’re about to die, I won’t hesitate to kill him.”

  He figured me out…To be expected from our ace. Azrael smirked. “As astute as ever.”

  Michael frowned. “What are you two talking about?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Samael said dismissively. “Let’s move on.”

  Uriel, sensing the tension, tried to lighten the mood. “What’s with all the worry? We’re stronger than the fallen angels—except for Azazel. But with your plan, Master, we’ll prevail, right?”

  Samael sighed. “Azazel has bent the power stone to his will, meaning he can share the power with his comrades. Do you think we still have the upper hand?

  Uriel faltered, searching for a confident reply. “Well... I—”

  “Exactly,” Samael interjected. “The fallen angels will be stronger. Train harder if you want to stand a chance.”

  Gabriel, who had been silent, finally spoke. “What are our chances?”

  “With proper training, 51%. If anyone slacks, it drops to 30%. If you all slack, 0%.”

  The room fell silent, horror etched on everyone’s faces.

  “You’re joking, right?” Ariel asked, her voice trembling.

  “Unfortunately, I’m not,” Samael said. “Meeting adjourned.” He turned on his heel and left, calling over his shoulder, “Azrael! You coming?”

  “I’m on my way,” Azrael replied, following him.

  In one of the many training rooms, Azrael and Samael stood face to face.

  “Do you know your biggest flaw?” Samael asked, his tone as sharp as his gaze.

  Azrael paused, thinking hard but failing to arrive at an answer.

  “You don’t use your gifts. Normally, I’d say overusing your ace is idiotic. But in your case, its versatility is infinite. I want you to use it with every strike.”

  Azrael frowned. “My ace only causes death… How is that versatile?”

  Samael scoffed. “Your ability isn’t to cause death; it’s to remove narratives. Everyone has a part to play in the story. Your power can alter parts of that story.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. It’s the natural counter to your brother’s ability. If you want to save him, you’ll need to master it.”

  “So…how do I do that?”

  “Take your fighting stance,” he commanded.

  Azrael assumed a wide stance, but Samael quickly ridiculed it. “That stance is for power, which isn’t your strong suit. Narrow your stance for speed.”

  “What? I’m not weak. I’m ranked fourth in terms of strength,” Azrael protested.

  “And yet your brother is stronger than Gabriel—the physically strongest angel.”

  “…I see your point.” Azrael adjusted his stance, earning a nod of approval.

  “Now concentrate…Condense your power inside and release.”

  “Better. Now, concentrate. Condense your power and release it.”

  Azrael threw a punch infused with his ability, removing the narrative of weakness from the strike. The result was a punch on par with Gabriel’s strength.

  “Very good. Now condense it further. The more you condense before releasing, the more potent it becomes. Next time, add mana.”

  “Understood.”

  This time, Azrael channelled more mana while condensing his power. The punch surpassed Gabriel’s, matching his brother’s strength.

  “Excellent. Now keep practising until you can strike faster, making it harder to predict.”

  Samael watched as Azrael trained relentlessly, reducing the time it took to throw a punch. To impress Samael, Azrael enhanced his speed with his ability, becoming so fast that Samael could barely follow his movements.

  What just happened?! I know he punched, but why didn’t I see it? His talent exceeds my expectations.

  “Very good. Your talent keeps surprising me.”

  So, this is what I can do with proper training… I feel… unstoppable.

  “Now, keep training until it becomes involuntary. And think outside the box. Remove things people don’t realise they need—like their structure, thought speed, or ability to control their powers.”

  “No problem. Teacher, I have some ideas.”

  “Show me.”

  “Now?” Azrael asked, startled.

  “Of course.”

  They both assumed fighting stances. Samael launched a flurry of punches, but Azrael removed the damage from each strike, countering with a single blow that sent Samael flying.

  “Impressive—” Samael suddenly choked, collapsing as he struggled to breathe. He activated divine nullification to restore his breath.

  “Got you,” Azrael said with a triumphant grin.

  Samael coughed, smirking. “I didn’t see that coming. I never expected you to take my ability to breathe. Keep training, and beating your brother will be a cakewalk.”

  “He still has the Power Stone. How will I match him?”

  “What happened to your confidence?”

  “I was confident because I believed no one else stood a chance… I also wanted to look reliable in front of the others.”

  “Hah! You’re right. The only one who can defeat your brother now is you. The ability to take is greater than the ability to give, just as destruction surpasses creation. Your potential far exceeds your brother’s—so much so that the Power Stone is the only thing keeping him competitive.”

  “Don’t flatter me. You speak as if I’m the strongest archangel.”

  “That’s because you are. I chose you because you’re the most dangerous angel I’ve ever seen.”

  Azrael’s expression softened. “Are you alright?”

  “Why do you ask?” Samael replied, puzzled.

  “This is the first time I’ve heard you give a compliment in aeons. It’s… “I didn’t compliment you before because none of you deserved it. But now… you, Azrael, are worthy of my praise. Don’t forget that.”

  “I won’t disappoint you… brother.”

  Samael nodded. “Good. I’ll leave you to your training. I need to ensure the rest of you don’t die.”

  “No problem. But let’s spar after this battle—when you’ve healed, of course.”

  “All right. Don’t lose too quickly,” Samael teased.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t. I’ll defeat you.”

  Samael chuckled. “Such confidence. I look forward to it.”

  “Me too,” Azrael muttered as Samael left the room.

  Samael proceeded to another training room, where Gabriel was training alone.

  I’ll defeat him. I’ll defeat him. I’ll defeat him…

  “Samael? What are you doing here?” Gabriel asked without breaking his focus.

  “Impressive. You sensed my presence. I suppose Michael left quite the impression on you.”

  “What do you want?” Gabriel retorted, not even sparing a glance.

  “You’re focused on training that won’t help you beat him.”

  “If you’re here to mock me, leave. I’m not in the mood.”

  “I wouldn’t dare mock the ‘strongest’ archangel, would I?”

  “Damn you! Leave, or I’ll—” Gabriel flared his magic in frustration.

  “You’re angry. Good.”

  “…What?”

  “To answer your question, I’m here to answer your prayers,” Samael said with a smirk.

  Gabriel sighed, his shoulders dropping. “Of course, you know.”

  “Firstly, your style won’t work against him. His battle data gathering is top-tier.”

  “Battle data gathering?” Gabriel echoed, surprised.

  “Michael’s style relies on analysing his opponent throughout the fight. He adjusts and programs his soul to counter and block as the fight progresses. That’s why your physical advantage faded as the fight went on.”

  Gabriel let out a dry laugh, finally grasping the level of skill he was up against.

  “Don’t lose hope. I’ll tell you how to beat him.”

  Gabriel narrowed his eyes. “You must want something in return.”

  “Can’t I help out of the kindness of my heart?” Samael said with a sly grin. Gabriel’s unyielding gaze forced him to relent. “Fine. There’s one thing I want.”

  After a brief negotiation, Gabriel reluctantly agreed. Samael explained how to counter Michael.

  “Why help me?” Gabriel asked.

  “You need to be stronger if we’re to win.”

  “Let me guess—this isn’t just about Michael. It’s a crash course to beat everyone.”

  “Precisely.”