Angel Michael let out a long, restrained groan.
The sound carried weight—centuries of war, duty, and exhaustion bound within it. He turned his head slightly toward Gabriel, his grip tightening around the reins of his twelve-legged steed.
"Brother," Michael said, his voice lower now, stripped of command and edged with frustration,
"is there truly no other way for us to go about this?"
Gabriel did not answer immediately.
Instead, he drifted closer, hands clasped behind his back, wings faintly shimmering as though lit from within. His expression was calm—almost pleasant.
"There is," Gabriel replied at last, tone light, as if discussing a trivial matter.
"A method. Very simple. Very… elegant."
Michael glanced at him.
Gabriel continued, unfazed.
"The humans merely need to sign the deal with Lucifer. Let their contest proceed."
A few of Earth's defenders stiffened.
Gabriel smiled.
"If Lucifer wins," he said casually,
"we eliminate Lucifer… and his host of Fallen abominations"
