ARC: Seeds of Calamity

CHAPTER OF THE PAGES - VII - Hellscape of lifetimes (Four)

Mathew walked and walked, but no matter where he looked, there was not a single trace of any lead that could take him to the place where that girl ended his dad’s life.

Where that girl murdered him.

The young man forgot how to sleep, the dark circles showing in his light brown skin. And he only kept eating so that he could get stronger, training every day, dreaming of a vengeance that even he couldn’t understand.

It felt innate to him, although he knew that he hated his father.

But to know that he was killed in cold blood, while completely defenceless...

He couldn’t even think of the fact that, being as his dad was, he probably just got what he deserved. All Mathew felt was anger, resentment, deep hatred towards that girl.

And no matter how much time passed, he knew he’d get his revenge.

***

Now she was hungry, and with a headache as close to a migraine as it could get.

And just like that, Uriel kept walking, and walking, and walking, trying to reach a better feeling of Nezariel’s presence. Her stomach hurt, her head wouldn’t just leave her alone...

What could ever even get worse than this? She asked no one in particular, just to notice her vision getting blurred, and the feeling in her fingers getting numb.

Well, shit... Uriel thought, as she started tripping on her feet, losing all sense of direction.

The archangel didn’t hear the drivers honking their horns to try and make her cross the street quickly.

Her Exilus was too weak for her to even notice the blare of the truck coming straight at her direction, and being able to reduce its speed only to not run her over. However, it did stumble quite badly into Uriel, making her fall a reasonable amount of steps further away.

Only to be lifted by two strong bodyguards, yelling things she was unable to hear, while being dragged inside a place that looked like a restaurant.

***

The Grand Marquis Azazel, or Gordon, as he liked to be called nowadays, was very busy scolding his subordinates, and cooking meals for the homeless people that attended regularly to his restaurant, when his bodyguards got in the kitchen in a rush.

“Boss, there’s something you gotta see!” the first guard said.

“We need you to come with us right now.” the second guard finished, followed by a deadly glare from his boss, which made him remember his place. “Erm... If you’re not too busy, boss.”

“Now, that’s better.” the chef answered. “Boys, I’m gonna leave for a moment. AND DON’T FORGET THAT YOU’RE NOT HERE TO COOK THE WAY YOU DO AT YOUR MOMMA’S HOUSE!”

“YES, CHEF!” his subordinates replied in perfect unison.

“Now gentlemen, what is it that is so urgent, that made you intrude into my kitchen?” the Grand Marquis asked politely.

“You gotta see it personally, boss.”

“But you’ll understand as soon as you lay eyes on her.”

“Her...?” Gordon questioned, not giving time for his two guards to answer. “Well then, let’s get to it, shall we?”

The trio headed to an office near to where the chef took Nezariel and his companions. Where his king, Purson, was waiting for them. And once he opened the door to the room, the vision of a young woman, completely unconscious, took him by surprise.

“Oh hell... Davis, restrain her! Joshua, go to the other office, tell them they need to leave. NOW!”

“Yes, sir!” Joshua answered, as Davis started tying the unconscious woman up.

Could he afford to be only Gordon in that kind of situation?

What am I even asking myself now... He thought, looking closely at the person in front of him, already firmly tied up by his bodyguard.

“Keep an eye on her. Once Joshua is back, I’ll go prepare a meal for her. She looks weak.”

A few moments later, Joshua was back, and Azazel’s guests were already on their way out, so the demon went to his kitchen, to fetch his new guest a proper meal.

***

Uriel woke up feeling dizzy, lost, her whole body aching as if she fought an entire legion of demons.

Almighty Father... I need to... She started thinking, but when she tried to move, the archangel noticed that she couldn’t even if her life depended on it.

She also noticed the smell.

It was awfully delicious.

The celestial remembered the time, several centuries ago, when she last tasted human food.

The strong, yet gentle smell of beef stew, gratin potatoes, onions, garlic, pepper... It was a feast for her nostrils, which made her eyes finally open slowly, but wide. Trying to adjust to the light in that unknown place.

“Where... Where am I...?” she asked, looking at the various plates in front of her.

“You came earlier than I expected, Uriel.” She heard a male, strong voice saying. Only then, she forcibly took her eyes away from the plate, the mouth of her Exilus salivating.

Those shockingly blue eyes, she had seen him somewhere.

But her Exilus was so hungry that the archangel couldn’t even try to remember.

“You... I know you. But... Where... Where am I...? Why... Am I tied up?”

“If I untie you, will you promise not to try anything?”

Uriel grunted, her head still spinning. She didn’t know where she was, had no guarantees of safety, and all she could think about at the moment was the unnaturally delicious smell of the food in front of her. Which meant that her only choice was to behave.

At least for the time being.

“Yes... I won’t do a thing...”

The blond man with the stunning eyes looked at her for a moment, and then he told another man, who was standing silently by her side.

“Untie her, Joshua.”

“Yes, boss.” the man replied.

He wore a formal black suit, white shirt, and sunglasses.

How in the seven Heavens didn’t she notice him by her side? Even if he was a common human, he should be able to notice his faint energy.

“You... Don’t have... A soul... Do you...?” she asked him, but received no answer in return. The man, Joshua, only paid attention to the ropes and knots that restrained her movements.

It took almost five minutes for Joshua to completely free her, but at half that time, when he released her upper body, she was already ravaging through the plates.

Uriel forgot all about manners and composure as she was faced with such an appealing meal.

She only noticed her Exilus’s hunger because of the physical symptoms, but never imagined that it would ever get to such an extent.

Angels needed food and rest, for them to be capable of healing injuries in their mortal bodies, and the deadlier the injure, the hungrier and sleepier their bodies would get. It didn’t matter if it was an Exilus, a simple shell, or a proper avatar, if they suffered any severe wounds, the result would always be the same.

Letting it recover with human food and sleep, or wither away, dying in the Haled, and suffering the mental consequences when waking up in Heaven.

Only Exilus didn’t have that option, for being incarnated in one, meant you were expelled from Heaven, forever.

And Uriel didn’t want to die.

She didn’t want to cease to exist.

So, she kept eating, until there was not a single drop of sauce, or a single fibre of meat on any of the plates.

“Where... Am...” she tried to ask again, but her strength was leaving her.

There was a gentle darkness unfolding around her, holding Uriel’s consciousness as softly as a mother’s embrace.

“Sleep, Uriel. You’ll need your strength back, for what you’ll have to face in the future.” the man hushed.

***

“We have to leave, now...” the demon king said, after a moment of silence. “I wish I could explain everything while we’re still here, but...” but he was cut mid-sentence, when the door to the office burst open.

“Get ready to leave, she’s here.” Joshua said, hurriedly.

“Already?” Purson asked, a viciously menacing growl coming from his throat. “Where is she?”

Nezariel only looked from one to the other, while they exchanged words.

“She’s restrained in the office next door. Boss is already in his kitchen, fetching her a meal.”

“FUCK!” Purson growled, furiously. “Yeah. We have to leave, guys.”

“Why?” Nezariel asked, lost and perplexed.

“Not now, little sister. If we mess this up, we might lose a valuable ally.” the demon king answered. “But why the fuck did he do...”

***

Nezariel wasn’t listening to any of them anymore.

Because up until then, she just accepted all the ups and downs of her journey, trying to take on every drop of the very little that was given to her.

She had to be content with any bit of information given, even if it didn’t make sense at all.

At first, she was a human. She had a family.

She was nothing but Becca, and she thought that it was good.

Becca didn’t care at all about the memories she didn’t possess about her past, about who she used to be. All that mattered was that she had a mother, an uncle, and a few friends.

That’s all I ever got to want, with my own will...

But then, all of a sudden, she got to know her true identity.

Even if she never asked for it.

Completely out of the blue, Becca was an angel. Entrusted with caring, and gently protecting.

A heavenly being completely incapable of doing harm to any living thing.

However, if that's what she truly was, then how the fuck was she ever able to learn how to fight? How come she got to understand the ways of defending her own self?

How could she kill him then?

How?

How?

***

Purson turned his back to Nezariel, while Aamon and Bertrand were waiting for her, although she didn’t make a single move, whether to leave, or anything.

She seemed absorbed in her own thoughts, unmoving.

Unnaturally static, as if barely breathing.

“Uhm... Neza...?” Bertrand called out to her, with no response at all. “Guys, is she alright?”

Only then Purson turned to check what was going on, came closer, and tried calling out to her, only to be greeted by absolute silence from the celestial.

“Girl?” Aamon called, slightly touching her shoulder.

Everything went dead silent, as if in slow motion. However, right after that, there was a burst of raw power coming right from the Ophanim, sending everyone flying against the walls.

Well, everyone except for Aamon, who was caught by its wrist in Nezariel’s iron grasp. The Earl’s eyes wide in shock.

“This is... Your... Fault...” she whispered, looking straight in Aamon’s eyes.

“What the fuck was that? Ouch... My head...” Bertrand tried to get up, stumbling and dropping on his knees.

“Don’t get up.” Purson warned him. “You’re not used to the offensive effects of Grace. You’ll be drained out and faint before you even realise what hit you...”

“But what the hell...?” the detective was perplexed, trying to figure out what was going on, but with no success.

“Didn’t she lose her grace...?” the detective was perplexed, trying to figure out what was going on, but with no success. “Didn’t she lose her grace?”

Looking at the Ophanim’s direction, his senses zooming with danger messages, Purson stated with certainty.

“This ain’t no natural grace, kid...” and staring at the young woman, at the top of her anger, told Bertrand, as she ripped Aamon’s arm off, like it was nothing. “It’s the Page.”