Ad blocker interference detected!
Wikia is a free-to-use site that makes money from advertising. We have a modified experience for viewers using ad blockers
Wikia is not accessible if you’ve made further modifications. Remove the custom ad blocker rule(s) and the page will load as expected.
It has been over a year since Azazel, the Former Archangel of War, and Samael,the Former Archangel of Death, have been cast out of heaven. Since then, Azazel has been causing trouble on Earth. During that time, a replacement for Samael has been chosen.
(This is the first time that Azrael and Azazel have fought. It is their first time meeting.)
Screaming. That's all that could be heard coming for the village. That's all Azazel wanted to hear. He looked on as his army of Immortui ravaged the village, killing and burning everything in sight. He sat on his crimson horse, the harbinger of war. A smile soon spread over his face, contorting into a twisted visage of madness. The wind carried the smell of blood and somke through the air. It blew at his back, signaling the end of the village and the beginning of war.
"Such glorius battle! I want more! More war! More battles! More bloodshed! More death!" Azazel yelled at the top of his lungs as if they orders.
The village lay in ruins. The buildings and houses nothing more than piles of forgotten rubble. The people were nothing more than bloodstains on the sand, turning it a vile crimson. His army of undead were victorious in the raid, everyone was dead. Not even the women and children survived.
His horse, Polos, began to whinny and act upset. It had sensed something. Azazel sensed it as well. It as the presence of an Archangel. Azazel turned the horse around and gazed at the sight before him, an unfamiliar archangel standing behind him.
The archangel had snow white hair and cold, piercing amethyst eyes, the eyes of a grim reaper. The archangel was wearing a traditional angelic garmets, just like his own. He had a grim expression of disdain on his youthful face.
Azazel tried to figure out who this new archangel was but to no avail. Is this Samael's replacement or is it mine? I must find out. Azazel dismounted his horse and made eye contact with the archangel. He saw nothing more but contempt and kiling intent in his eyes.
"If you may give me the courtesy, may I ask your name. After telling me, I shall make your death as painless as possible foolish archangel." Azazel said, confidence in his voice.
"My name is Azrael, the Archangel of Death. I was sent here to defeat you." Azrael answered.
Azrael's expression changed from a grim one to that of a tranquil state. He was actually smiling, but that smile was not genuine. However, Azazel could still sense the killing intent being exuded from Azrael. Azazel was intrigued. Had he just found a new challenge?
"Kill me? Ha! No angel in all of heaven can best me! You know not of who you're up against, Death!"
"Such pride. You are the embodiment of War in all of the Omniverse. I've wanted to teach you the meaning of humility for countless eons. Shall we start our battle?"
Azazel and Azrael dashed backwards, moving away from each other. In a flash of light, they both created great and legendary weapons. Azazel created the legendary blade, Markos, the blade that can slay gods, and Azrael created two exact replicas of Micheal's sword, the blade that felled Lucifer.
The setting sun bounced what little precious light it had left off of the magnificent blades. The Immortui had gathered infront their master, ready for battle. The scene had been set and the actors were in position. All that was left was for the curtain to rise and unleash the ballad of carnage and bloodshed, a play of death.
Azrael body was tense but loose, as a warrior's body should be. His grip on the blades were firm. He felt no emotion. Battle was the only thought in his mind. Azrael's smile turned into a snarl of hate but he remained in his tranquil state.
"You dare to mock me by using the undead! I'll paint the sand with you're blood!" Azrael yelled.
Azrael mustered all of his speed and power and put it into one dash. He was moving at speeds that even the most trained eye could not track. Too any being other than an archangel or demon, he was invsible. He cut through the undead army with ease. Each swing of his blades sliced through an undead's armor and damaged them severly, dismembering some and decapitating others. He killed countless thousands of Immortui in that one dash
He eventually slowed down and looked around himself. He was surrounded by Immortui on all sides. He then realized that the Immortui was comprised of more than just undead. It had Reapers, one of his own creations, commanding the army and strange creatures that even he knew nothing about.
These creatures were twisted caricatures of golems. They were made out of jagged rock and stone. They stood as tall as the reapers hovered, 10 feet. In their hands, they carried large swords with jagged blades. Two tusks sprouted from their mouths.
The fallen Immortui that had not lost their head began to regenerate their wounds and stand. The Reapers pointed their scythes at him, ordering the others to charge. The first to move were the creatures. Despite being quite gigantic, they were surprisingly agile. One of the creatures slashed downwardly at Azrael. He quickly dodged it by rolling out of the way.
Azrael dashed toward the leg of the creature and cut it off. The crippled creature toppled over and fell, shaking the earth. Azrael quickly looked over the body of the creature and searched for a weakness. He found one in the center of its back. He jumped on the creature's back and in one movement, thrusted on of his blades into its weak spot, killing the creature.
The Immortui had closed in on him. Barely noticing two of them behind him, they began the motion of a diagonal slash. In the time it takes for a human to blink, he turned around and blocked the attack. Quickly counterattacking, he thrusted his blades into both of their heads, killing them. May your spirits finally rest in peace.
Azrael stood there annoyed and covered in blood. He had enough of Azazel's games. He looked around him and saw at least a million more Immortui around him. He was through playing games. Azrael raised both blades into the air. The moment he did, they were soon covered in a transcendent, golden divine energy. He had coated his blades with energy from the Well of Miracles.
"To the dead, you may finally rest. To the Reapers who betrayed me, your destruction will be nothing more than that of a traitor, meaningless and ignominious."
The Reaper commanders franticly flew over to Azrael, their scythes in their hands. Their ghastly, black, warith-like bodies fluttered, as if they were being carried by the blood-stained wind. The other Immortui stood in silence, in anticipaction. The wind picked up, becoming even more tempestuous with every passing second.
"Lord Death, you were weak, letting life run amok and uncontrolled. That is why we left you. That is why you will not fire that blast."
The Reapers charged at him, scythes in position to hack and slash Azrael to pieces. When they all converged on him, they all began the motion of a downward strike. Halfway through their strike, a brilliant pillar of golden light and energy coating the swords shot out from the blades and engulfed both Azrael and the Reapers. The pillar expanded rapidly, engulfing thousands of the millons of Immortui surrounding him. Those engulfed by the blinding light, disappeared from view.
The only thing that could be viewed insied the pillar of light was the silhouette of a figure holding two blades to the sky. Faintly, words could be heard from the pillar. "Be gone"
[To be continued]