The reddish scabbard with metallic lining and a skull-designed pommel sword appeared before them from thin air. “How?” Dreygo asked excitedly. “I pulled some strings in the Demon world and the portal keepers. The exchange was…should I say, eventful,” Viriel replied. Dreygo started to walk towards his sword, still limping from the stab wound, but healing. He finally held the sword in his hand and it glowed red and streaks of fire embodied the sword the moment his fingers touched it. Holding it, Dreygo felt a tingling sensation that ran from his palm to his forearm down to his heart and pumped out towards every nerve endings in his body. He felt stronger, he felt a bit of god’s power in him. He unsheathed the sword and a slight shrieking sound of metal friction echoed inside the warehouse. He wafted the sword’s blade into the air as if regaling its weight for the first time. Swinging the sword efficiently, every movement had a sharp sound as it was slicing through air. “Are we expe

Tengzu, Cheena, Earth *** The wind blew dramatically and bounced from every direction. The atmosphere transformed tremendously which made the humans uneasy. Zerath felt the change in weather and it triggered his excitement. “This is it, Viriel. This is what I have been looking for.” Zerath was amused. Viriel felt the rage inside of him as a God's ability could nearly be overwhelming even on his capacity. But Nebirus assured that his power was compatible with his, even on a different vessel. “Release everything, Viriel. Show me everything!” Zerath engaged the angel. Viriel thought of not holding back. Of letting the power within grew outwardly but still on the level of control. Instantly, the tremors appeared from beneath their feet. The integrity of the pavement was challenged and could not withstand the quake as faint cracks appeared on the floor. “This is what you are looking for Zerath! Nebirus’ power! And you shall feel its wrath!” Viriel screamed. He felt that the god's po

Tsi Luen City, Cheena, Earth *** Two figures perched on the highest roof deck of one of the tallest buildings of Tsi Luen. From afar, clusters of smoke wafted towards the overcast seen from the building’s standpoint. It was Tengzu’s aftermath hours after the skirmish. The place was dominated by authorities, police, and firefighter, collecting dead bodies, rescuing, prowling from the debris, evacuating survivors, and distinguishing fires. It was a mess. “What a waste,” Kragus snapped. “Zerath was cocky and he underestimated our enemies,” Belrag said. “We did not know that the Angel possessed Nebirus’ power. He could level the playing field by transforming into his true Demon form but he waited long enough and underestimated his opponent," Kragus recalled. Kragus did not expect Zerath to lose that easily. He witnessed the fight far away that Dreygo's senses could faintly reach. Most importantly even with the defeat, he had vital information about Viriel and Dreygo. He used Zerath t

Unknown Regions, Mountain Areas of Southern Continents, Earth *** "I have been waiting for this, Nethaniel!" The corrupted angel growled. He smiled as he saw the Angel of the first rank had answered his prayer. The corrupted angel was desperately waiting for his deliverance. "I know brother. You are in pain and confused. But you have sinned - treason, and the murder of innocent village people. Now it's time to pass judgment unto you." The first rank angel said. "I wonder how you would pass judgment on me, Nethaniel. I do not even see you kill a fellow angel." "Because I won't have to. If you'd surrender and be judged in the High Council courts and this will be over soon." "Over my dead body," The corrupted angel hissed. "So be it, then." The first rank angel had his fist closed. Without hesitation, Nethaniel attacked the third rank Angel at lightning speed. Appearing in front of Azakiel, the latter was not able to read his movements. Azakiel tried to leap backward to anticipate

The vast scourge of forestation laid flat on a circular form. At the epicenter of it stood the first rank angel. In front of him was an emaciated figure that was half-dead, half-alive, gasping heavily for air. He was disfigured and with limited movements. The only movement he could exhibit was his chest rising and falling which synchronized with his breathing. “You have lost, Azakiel. It is time to deliver the final strike,” Nethaniel said coldly. Azakiel did not utter a word but only a faint sound of his weakening breathing. His eyes were semi-closed but still fixated on his executioner. The corrupted angel had exhausted every energy he had and his life hung in the balance between his inhalations and exhalations of air supporting his futile attempt of reviving. Two or three breaths if unpermitted would end his life instantly. Nethaniel sauntered casually towards the defeated angel, regaling upon the obliteration brought about by his explosion skill. His assessment was right, the e