From on high, the sounds of battle could still be heard: steel clashing against steel, the symphony of shots fired into the unknown where the only hope was that they might find purchase. The ground was bloodied, both in the golden gore of angelic life and the steaming ichor of the daemon kind. In this war, a centuries-long endeavor in which neither force has found purchase over the other, no life was considered sacred.
All were expendable. Even the divine.
It was sickening. Barbaric⌠a waste of time in the eyes of the Higher Powers.
Yet still, the fighting persisted, as was the wordless decree of those who ruled from above. That said, it did not need to be enjoyed, the sight of such bloodshed. Were blood to be spilled, were hearts and limbs to be plucked free from the body, then let it be in the name of the gods so many mortals worshiped.
Such were the thoughts of Liel, Burning Beauty of the Heavens; Seraphim Envoy of the Archon of Destruction.
For nearly fifty solar cycles, she has watched and waited, observing this meager war world, holding her station until at last her âpeopleâ, her kingdom, could obtain their hard-fought glory. But victory never came. When the mortal armies of the Heavens increased in their ferocity and drive to win, so did those of the Daemonic Hells. When they were met with greater strength, those damnable imps pushed back even harder, their drive to win just as great as their enemies.
It was insulting, and to a much greater degree humiliating. To think that, after having fought for so long, the angelic forces on the ground couldnât muster even a minor victory was besmirchment on the name of those deities they served. Even worse, the Archons who collected the tithe of prayers were just as offended, if not more so, for what was once meant to be a quick and simple exorcism of infernal forces had now become a joke.
And Liel wasnât laughing.
Twirling a strand of golden blond hair between her fingers, snipping away at a cord with bestially sharp nails, she bit her lower lip in frustration.
âSuch absurdityâŚâ
It was a blunder of the greatest degree for the Heavens' own forces to struggle so consistently against what should have been a simple extermination. Even if a portion of their forces were of mortal origins, the light, blessings, and weaponry provided should have been more than enough to burn away any and ALL opposition. Yet here they all were, centuries beyond the expected completion date, still struggling against the seemingly impossible.
Even regarding them as âher peopleâ was an affront to the divinity they both served, and proved only to be a continuous mistake Liel refused to accept for a moment longer.
No. Rather, she would not allow it to continue for a single second more.
Her wings extending outward, the Seraphim descended downward. Away from the clouds that have shielded her luminous form since her arrival on this accursed world and towards the battlefield she had been ordered to observe. Though she would doubtlessly suffer repercussions for the abandonment of her post, even Lielâs Archon would surely understand her frustrations. Too much faith had been placed upon these⌠lesser life forms, and as such both angel and divinity were met with continuous failure.
While they might play the angle of the angered god for a short while, in time the Archon will come around to Lielâs manner of thinking.
And how no other option remained, save for purification.
****
When her form was first seen, descending from on high beyond the sky, silence at long last came to the soldiers of Vaiten.
All-encompassing, standing hundreds upon hundreds of meters in height, the luminous being was all that could be seen for what felt like miles around; their light reaching even the darkest of places.
Wings so large they blocked out the sun.
Skin so fair they shamed the war-torn world and its denizens.
Though many of the thousands still presently at battle on the field were understandably perplexed by the divine being in front of them, none could deny the otherworldly beauty they were witness to. An angel, far grander than those they struggled alongside, dressed in garments of silk and gold, descending after what felt like an eternity of unanswered prayers.
Many among the numbers of those who never lost their faith fell to their knees, tears streaming from their eyes as they witnessed the ever-growing light and body of this divine being. It encompassed them, flooding the souls of not just mortal kind, but daemons as well, forcing all to kneel, whether it be in prostration, reverence, or fear: it did not matter. The knee was bent all the same, as that was all that could be done in the face of such divinity.
They prayed, from winged soldiers to mortal lords, to the grand beauty that humbled their wildest dreams. None could tear their eyes away as the Greater Angel drew so close even her flawless bare feet hovered but a few meters above the ravaged soil. Close enough that any could gather within her shadow and pray. A foolâs errand to some, and yet for those whose faith had been tested time and time again, it was the greatest of reprieves.
Already, a fair several dozen who possessed such shattered spirits chose to stand beneath their beautiful savior, the opportunity to be shrouded in her presence too euphoric to pass up on. It seemed unreal, surreal, to bask in the light of something so brilliantly bright, when all theyâve known for generations was bloodshed and foreboding darkness.
Yet here they all were, those who fought in the Heavensâ name and those who fought for their world, standing underneath one of its most divine messengers. For a brief, ephemeral moment that stretched on for what felt like hours, peace at long last felt like a possibility.
A conclusion to the incursion of the daemonic hordesâŚ
Golden eyes surveyed the land, taking in all that has happened, and all that has been lost, silently judging and weighing the lives of those who have fought in the Golden Empire's name. A shudder was felt among angelkind as their far superior kin looked down upon them⌠and studied their state.
The Higher Angel smiled and her followers bowed their heads, awaiting her answer. âDear oh dear ⌠centuries of languish⌠For this?â
Her shining smile turned sour, the corner of her eyes twitching. âBloodied fields and scorched earth? A world torn by war despite what has been given?â
The Seraphimâs foot came down with the grace of the wind, and in so doing rested gingerly upon those who had thought it wise to stand beneath her⌠as though lowly mortals ever deserved such an honor.
âWhat a disappointment Vaiten has proven to be~.â
In her light, those mortals trapped beneath the Angel's weight burnt away well before they could have even popped, their bodies charring beyond that of a crisp, staining the Otherworldly Beautyâs pristine sole in blackened ash rather than the crimson red she would have hoped for.
Grimacing in disgust, the Angel lifted her foot to take in the immediate damage, her teeth grinding together as she struggled to maintain her fleeting composure. âArchons above, youâre too weak to even die properlyâŚâ
She would have liked to crush their armies properly, always likening such gore to blooming flowers. Alas, mortals couldn't even do that right.
âYou're not even fun to flattenâŚâ
There were no words to describe just how pathetic these lesser lifeforms truly were; from those âimpsâ of the Hells to the mortal forces that threw themselves against them. Even the Higher Angel's own kind proved lacking, their strengths offering no visible advantage for her to see.
Centuries of fighting, generations of time wasted, only surmounted into a single, daunting answer that sent chills down the spines of all those who understood the gravity of the situation.
âWhat an indescribable waste of time this all was.â
Her voice was like fire, her words harsh.
In one moment, all those faithful mortals who looked upon their supposed savior soon found the light they previously bathed in to be blinding. What once offered them freedom and salvation now only served to torment them as, in the Seraphimâs otherworldly brilliance, their skin bubbled and bones bleached. Yet that was not the worst of what those who reeked of failure suffered.
While many among the mortal armies burned, gripping at their melting bodies in a futile attempt to hold themselves together, their savior, now turned executioner, had in truth utterly annihilated their faith. The singular thing that had kept so many going for so long. When families and friends were lost, when cities and bastions crumbled, all that remained was their beliefs. The silent promise that, at the end of everything, they would be rewarded with an era of peace.
But there was no reward here.
There was no silent promise to be kept.
Though the end had indeed come, salvation did not accompany it.
It was enough to drive even the most stalwart of believers to lunacy, their minds breaking well before their bodies did.
Though, even were they to have persevered, another gentle step forward into the maddened masses was enough for the disgruntled Angel to silence their cries. Pleas for mercy, as well as demands for answers as to what they did to deserve this, all cut short with the most minor pressure from her foot.
Again, and most disappointedly, the bodies of mortals burned away far too fast to be enjoyed in any meaningful measure. They were much too fragile, much too small, to allow for satisfaction in a job well done, and while the Angelâs light was held back to a certain extent⌠even this meager luminosity proved apocalyptic in an actual apocalypse.
That said, enjoyment of this extermination was not the true goal, though it would have been appreciated. In the Higher Angel's continued stride, flattening bodies and war machines alike, she understood that there was a job to do. Those of mortal lives had a price to pay for having wasted the Heavensâ precious time, and as a higher being herself it was her duty to collect. Even her kin, loyal as they were, would not be exempt from their well-earned punishments. An eon of torment upon their reincarnations.
However⌠and much to the Angelâs silent delight, the occasional crunch was both heard and felt; a brief wave of pleasure rushing up her back each time it was. Not from the mechanical monstrosities used by Vaitenâs armies, no, but from the armored flesh of lesser angels and daemons alikeâ those who had yet to flee. The latter, singular horrors who, in some small measure, could actually withstand the light and weight of an upper angel.
The Greater Angel's smile returned as, in the wake of mortalityâs fragility, she was met with the cherished durability of immortality. That of her kin's, as well as her hated enemy's.
A treat⌠just for her.
The sort that shouldnât be squandered.
****
Liel cooed, watching in enjoyment as, in between her fingers and thumb, she clutched tightly the daemonic lord that had led this tiresome incursion. An armored brute, red of skin and adorned in the skulls of their enemies. In their name, hundreds of trillions of Vaitenians had been slain, yet for all it was worth the Seraphim could not remember what it was. Though they were large themselves, in the hands of an Angel such as herself the Daemon Lord seemed so⌠small.
Inconsequential
It was almost a wonder as to how such a war had persisted when such forces proved so weak.
But belittling her prey was the last thing Liel needed to do. Her actions already spoke volumes. What she sought now were any final thoughts the general might possess. Even a chance to pray and beg for forgiveness, regardless of how futile the effort might be. Far more than what the Daemon deserved, yet the Seraphim was feeling⌠generous.
From the Hells though they may be, a Daemonic Lord such as this held a certain pride that, when forced to face, proved oh so bothersome. They were arrogant to a fault, undeserving of one born of the cosmosâ much, and as such an opportunity to bring them down a few notches shouldn't be passed.
Mercy. A chance to repent.
Daemons hated such things, and so they were offered it in abundance when their backs were against a wall.
âCome on now, there's no need to resist~,â the Seraphim assured, her smile as fair as could be. The first time it was genuine since her arrival upon this wretched world. âYou know what I wish to hear, and the sooner you say the words, the sooner this all ends. Here⌠I'll even get you started~.â
Liel coughed, mockingly clearing her throat as she positioned the Daemon's head to face her lips. ââPlease, you're Holiness, I ask forâŚââ
She was confident. So very sure of her vastly superior power. Yet, as one might unfortunately expect, the Daemonic Lord Did not bend so easily. Instead, and in an act of burning defiance, he spat steaming blood towards the Seraphim who held him so tightly.
âBurn in Hell, Bitch!â They bellowed.
The Seraphim frowned.
An eye twitched.
The Daemonic Lord barely had a moment to stand proud as Lielâs forefinger and thumb came together, crushing flat the foul-mouthed beast's skull.
âForgiveness, you contemptuous cur,â she corrected. âYou were meant to say forgiveness.â
Bringing her hands together, Liel mangled the Daemonâs body even further, uncaring as they twitched; a cruel consequence of their seemingly unending life. Immortality, less often was it a blessing more than it was a curse when the body refused to die after grievous injury.
Though the Seraphim did not wish the twitching Lord dead. That would have been a kindness. And nothing of the sort would ever be offered to the dreaded Hells.
With a sigh, Liel tossed the Daemonâs body over her shoulder, allowing it to crash against the smaller remains of its brutalized armies, each warrior as mangled as their master, if not more. Some were ripped in half, the punishment of those who thought to raise their arms against the divinity. Others were torn apart in such ways that, to any unaware of the Angelâs presence, it might have seemed the handiwork of some sadistic beast. A terror of the Depths, or an executioner of the Heavens. At this moment, to those unfortunate many who still languished on in their un-life, the Seraphim very much fit that definition of monstrosity.
But their thoughts were neither heeded nor cared for.
Liel wouldn't allow her nerves to be struck so quickly. Not after all the effort she's taken in remedying her previous annoyances.
Instead, she would smile and spread her wings outward to bathe in the glory that was the aftermath of her judgment.
Vaiten in its entirety had been purged clean, its lands free of both sin and⌠ineptitude.
The Daemonic horde that had invaded was crushed, both figuratively, and quite very literally. The forces that had fought against them prior⌠eradicated for their inability to do the simplest of tasks.
Though the Heavens had lost what might have been a world of worship, the job was done, and in Lielâs own opinion⌠the lives sacrificed werenât of too great a concern. Even her angelic brethren, immortal though they were, would not be missed if they were stripped of their wings and status.
If they couldnât have even handled something this small then there was just no feasible way in which theyâd have been of use to beings millions of times their better. It did not matter if they were Heavenly or mortal in that regard.
Perhaps in time, new life would populate Vaiten. Once the fires had died down, and clouds and rain returned life to the bloodstained soil, maybe then something worthy would sprout up from the grime.
Until then, however, Lielâs work was done, and not a moment too soon.
âAnother century of waiting and I might not have been able to hold back,â the Seraphim stated to no one in particular, heard only by the broken daemons and angels who she continued to trample with the occasional shift and step. âHow dare you all have wasted my time?â she growled. âHow dare you deny my Archon the worship they deserve?â
Liel could have done worse to the world. Much, much worse. A tad bit brighter, or even a âsmidgeâ larger than her current size, and the very solar system in which Vaiten resided might have been placed at risk, though by then thereâd be no way in which the Seraphim would be able to explain that to her Master.
But a single world? A relatively primitive civilization? That was a common loss. Nothing of any real value and worth, in the infinite expanse of creation.
Looking down to the hordes and remains at her feet, Liel chuckled. âThough I suppose you lot were good for something in the end~â
For over five centuries, Liel had watched and waited, bidding her time until she was needed; per her Lordâs orders. But just as she had been told to wait, so was she given the clearance of extermination, were the planet and its inhabitants unable to defend themselves properly against the hordes coerced and summoned by the higher powers of the Heavens.
A conclusion the Seraphim herself had prayed for, should Vaiten have failed its test of inclusion. The right and privilege to join the utopia that was the Golden Empire. And as it so happened, her prayers alone had been the ones answered. Among the many that went unheard by her lord.
âI had hoped and dreamed of killing you all for what felt like an eternity~!â