Kokabiel PoV
The Dragons were surprisingly easy to deal with.
I found them in the deepest part of the Underworld, where the heat from the planet's core made the air shimmer and waver. The five Dragon Kings had established their territories here, each claiming a different section of the vast underground cavern system.
Only three were actively ruling some parts. Tiamat didn't care about politics and mostly kept to herself, and Vritra was still sealed in five separate pieces after his defeat by Indra centuries ago.
Heaven had recovered those pieces as part of the peace treaty and turned them into Sacred Gears. That had probably annoyed Vritra immensely, but he was in no position to complain.
Yu-Long, the Mischievous Dragon, was the first to approach when I arrived. He was smaller than the others, serpentine and covered in jade-green scales that shimmered in the dim light like liquid emerald. His eyes held ancient intelligence mixed with playful curiosity.
"Welcome, Heaven's Wrath," he said, his voice carrying amusement. "We were wondering when you'd come. Heard you killed Ddraig and Albion a few years back. Rather Impressive work. Those two were insufferable. Always going on about their rivalry and destiny. Got old fast."
"They attacked my siblings," I said simply. "They knew the risks."
Midgardsormr, the Sleeping Dragon, opened one massive eye from where he'd been coiled in the corner. He was enormous, easily large enough to swallow buildings whole, his scales a deep midnight blue.
"What do you want with us, angel? We've been behaving ourselves. Mostly. No major incidents in at least fifty years."
"I want the same thing I want from everyone else: cooperation and peace. The Underworld is becoming a consolidated territory for most supernatural species. You'll coexist with the Devils and Fallen Angels under Heaven's oversight."
Fafnir, the Gigantis Dragon, snorted from his perch on a mountain of gold coins. The sound sent a puff of golden flame into the air.
He was massive even by Dragon standards, covered in scales that looked like molten gold.
"You're asking Dragons to take orders from an angel. That's rich. No Dragon has ever bowed to Heaven."
"I'm not asking you to bow, even though I can make you. I'm asking Dragons to withdraw from the human world and live peacefully in a territory where you won't be hunted or feared.
In exchange, you agree not to terrorize humans or start wars with the other species down here. Think of it as... strategic repositioning rather than submission."
Yu-Long tilted his head, seeming to consider this. "What about treasure? Dragons like treasure. Need it, really. It's in our nature. Can we still hoard?"
"As long as you're not stealing from humans , hoard whatever you want. I don't care if you fill entire mountains with gold."
"Fighting?" Midgardsormr asked. "Dragons like fighting. It's how we establish dominance, settle disputes, test our strength. Take that away and you might as well kill us."
"Spar with each other all you want. Kill each other if it's consensual combat and both parties agree to lethal terms. Just don't make it everyone else's problem. Don't destroy Devil settlements because you were having a territorial dispute. Don't terrorize Fallen Angels for entertainment."
Fafnir studied me for a long moment with eyes that had seen millennia pass. "You're different from your Father. He was all about morality and righteousness. Lots of speeches about good and evil, right and wrong. You're just... practical. You care about outcomes, not principles."
"I lost most of my emotional capacity in the war. So my angelic sentiments are not available ."
"Explains the weird vibe," Fafnir nodded slowly. "You feel wrong. Like something that shouldn't exist but does anyway. But..." He paused. "Alright. Dragons respect strength above all else, and you've clearly got that. We'll follow your rules. Mostly."
"Mostly?"
"Dragons are Dragons," Yu-Long said cheerfully, doing a little loop in the air. "We'll try our best, but you know... sometimes things happen. Treasures get hoarded that maybe shouldn't be. Territories get disputed. The occasional rampage occurs. It's in our nature. We can't help it entirely."
"If the occasional rampage harms humans or threatens overall stability, I'll respond accordingly. Consider that your one warning."
"Fair enough!" Yu-Long seemed genuinely pleased with the arrangement. "We accept! This could actually be fun. Devils, Fallen Angels, and Dragons all living together? The chaos potential is enormous! I give it fifty years before something explodes spectacularly."
Midgardsormr closed his eye again, clearly done with the conversation. "Wake me if anything interesting happens. Otherwise, I'll be here. Sleeping. As always."
As I turned to leave, Fafnir called out. "Hey, angel. For what it's worth, hope you get your emotions back. Life without feeling things properly must suck. We Dragons live for passion, for the thrill of battle and the joy of treasure. Can't imagine existing without that."
"So I'm told," I said. "Thank you. I think."
"One more thing," Fafnir added. "If Heaven ever need help with anything... you know where to find us. You've been fair today. Dragons remember fairness."
I nodded. He was rather easy going compared to his legends. No wonder Azazel was able for a partnership with him in future.
I returned to Heaven feeling... something. Not quite satisfaction, but maybe a distant echo of it.
The Underworld was organized now. The species were cooperating, or at least agreeing to try. The framework was in place. It wasn't perfect, but it was functional. Stable. That would have to be enough.
Michael was waiting for me in the main hall, looking relieved. "It actually worked! How did you manage that without starting another war?"
"Clear communication of consequences. Demonstrated overwhelming force when challenged. Appointed reasonable leaders who actually want peace. Standard negotiation tactics."
"You make it sound so simple."
"It was simple. Everyone down there is too exhausted and traumatized to want more conflict. They just needed structure and a reason to hope things could get better.
The Devils have their new Satans. The Fallen have Azazel's stability. The Dragons have their territory. Everyone gets something. It's... balanced."
Gabriel appeared with Raphael and Azrael in tow. "So the Devils are really accepting the new system? No rebellions? No assassination attempts on the new Satans?"
"They don't have much choice. But yes, the new Satans seem genuinely competent. Sirzechs has natural leadership qualities, he actually cares about his people.
The others will support him well enough. Give them a few decades to consolidate power and establish their new government. Let's see if they let power corrupt them or not."
Azrael was scribbling notes furiously, his quill moving so fast it blurred. "Four new Satans. I need to update all the records. What are their full titles? And should I be concerned about territorial disputes? What about the succession protocols if one dies? And..."
"Azrael," I interrupted gently. "The records can wait. Relax."
Azrael blinked at me, clearly shocked. "Did you just tell me to relax?"
"Yes. Was that inappropriate?"
He stared for a moment longer, then slowly smiled. "No, it was... actually kind of nice. Thank you."
Gabriel laughed, actually laughed, and hugged me suddenly. "You're getting better. That was almost normal social interaction!"
I awkwardly patted her back, trying to remember the appropriate pressure and duration for comforting hugs. "I'm trying."
"I know." She pulled back, smiling with tears in her eyes. "I can see it. It's slow, but it's happening. You're coming back to us, little by little."
Michael cleared his throat, though he was smiling too. "So what's this about Angelic Pieces you mentioned? You said something about that before you left."
"Right. I need to create them. It'll take a few weeks to work out the mechanics properly. I'll explain more once I have working prototypes."
I secluded myself in one of Heaven's workshop towers for the next three weeks.
The tower was isolated, perched on the edge of Heaven's outer rings where few angels ventured. Perfect for work that required concentration without interruption.
The workshop itself was spacious, filled with tools and materials I'd need—divine metals, crystallized light, essence extractors, enchantment arrays.
The theory behind the Evil Pieces was simple and elegant. Chess pieces infused with demonic power that could reincarnate the dead or transform the living into Devil-hybrids.
A brilliant solution to the Devils' reproduction problems, really. They couldn't breed easily with low birth rates, their population dwindling with each generation. The Evil Pieces would let them convert other species, expand their numbers, ensure their survival.
But the system had a fatal flaw: it allowed for forced conversion. Master-servant contracts with all the abuse potential that implied.
Someone could die, be brought back as a Devil without their consent, bound to serve a master they never chose. Or worse, be forcibly converted while still alive, their nature changed against their will.
The Angelic Pieces needed to be different. Specially after I told them about necessity of free will.
I worked through the mechanics carefully, building in protections at every level. Each piece would be infused with holy power, yes, but also with specific safeguards woven into the very fabric of their existence.
Free will preservation at the foundational level. Consent verification that couldn't be bypassed or tricked. The ability for the converted to revoke their status if their "King" proved unworthy or abusive.
The first week was spent on pure theory. Mathematical equations covering entire walls, probability calculations for different scenarios, stress testing the magical framework against every exploit I could imagine. If there was a way to abuse the system, I needed to find it and close that loophole.
The second week was actual creation. The pieces themselves took shape slowly, painstakingly. Each one had to be perfect. Any flaw in the enchantment could lead to catastrophic failure or create vulnerabilities.
Pawns came first. Eight per set, glowing with soft white light. They would be the most common, offering moderate power increases but requiring less energy from the King.
I built in protections so they couldn't be treated as disposable. Each Pawn would retain their full personality, their ability to refuse orders they found morally objectionable.
Then the Rooks. Two per set, solid and strong. They would grant enhanced physical abilities, defensive capabilities. I made sure they couldn't be used as mere shields, the bond worked both ways, the King feeling their Rook's pain, ensuring they wouldn't be casually sacrificed.
Knights followed. Two per set, focused on speed and precision. The bond here emphasized partnership rather than servitude. Knights would fight alongside their King, not just for them.
Bishops were more complex. Two per set, offering enhanced magical abilities. I had to be particularly careful here, ensuring that the power boost couldn't be used to override the converted person's will or force them to cast spells they opposed.
The Queen was the hardest of the standard pieces. One per set, offering aspects of all the other pieces. Immense power, but also immense trust required.
I built in additional safeguards, the Queen had to genuinely respect their King for the bond to function at full strength. Forced loyalty would only give a fraction of the potential power.
The King piece was the most difficult. It needed to bond with an angel strong enough to support a full peerage but also someone who would respect the sacred trust being placed in them. The King held lives in their hands, literally. That responsibility couldn't be taken lightly.
I poured everything I understood about leadership, about responsibility, about the weight of others depending on you into the King piece.
It would judge its bearer, ensure they were worthy. An unworthy King would find the pieces simply wouldn't work, no matter how powerful they were.
The third week was testing. I ran simulation after simulation, checking every angle.
What if someone tried to convert a dying person who was delirious? The pieces would wait until they were lucid enough for true consent.
What if a King tried to convert someone under duress? The pieces would reject the attempt. What if someone was converted and later regretted it? They could revoke the bond, though it would be painful and require recovery time.
I created sets for Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, and Azrael first. They were the most trustworthy angels I knew, the ones I could count on to use this power responsibly.
Each set was slightly customized. Michael's emphasized leadership and protection, Gabriel's focused on healing and support, Raphael's enhanced her medical abilities and wisdom, Azrael's integrated with his affinity with death and holy energy.
Then, almost as an afterthought, I created a set for myself. I don't know why. Maybe because I was bored.
I stared at the pieces for a long time after they were complete. I didn't need them. I didn't plan on using them. I was leaving Heaven soon anyway, going to live among humans, trying to recover my emotions. What would I do with a peerage? Specially when I was struggling to regain myself.
But something about having them felt... right. Like keeping options open for a future I couldn't quite envision yet. Maybe I'd meet someone worth saving. Maybe I'd find myself in a situation where these pieces could make a difference. Or maybe I'd never use them at all.
I carefully packed my set away, then gathered the others to present to my siblings.
When the pieces were finally complete, I called my siblings to the workshop.
They arrived together, looking curious and slightly concerned. Gabriel spoke first. "You've been locked in here for weeks. We were starting to worry. You haven't even been coming to meals."
"I don't need to eat," I pointed out.
"That's not the point! It's about spending time together, being part of the family!" She huffed, then softened. "We missed you."
Something warm flickered in my chest. Still faint, but there. "I missed you too. I think."
Michael smiled. "That's progress. So what have you been working on that required three weeks of isolation?"
"I've completed the Angelic Pieces."
I displayed the sets on the workshop table. They gleamed in the soft light, each piece perfect and pristine. The white glow pulsed gently, like a heartbeat.
I explained the mechanics and the built-in safeguards. Michael listened intently, asking questions about the King's responsibilities and the consent requirements.
What happened if someone was converted and later wanted to leave? Could a King abuse their power? What were the limitations?
Raphael wanted to know about medical applications. Could the pieces heal injuries during conversion? What about chronic illnesses? Could someone dying of disease be saved and healed simultaneously? Would their afflictions transfer with them?
Gabriel was most concerned about the emotional impact on both King and peerage members. "This is a profound bond you're creating. It's not just physical or magical, they'll be connected on a spiritual level. What if the King dies? What happens to the peerage members?"
"They revert to their previous state if the King dies," I explained. "With modifications, they keep any power increases, but the bond itself dissolves. It's designed so that the King's death doesn't doom everyone connected to them."
Azrael just looked excited, his usual stoic demeanor cracking. "This is incredible! Do you know what this means? Angels who die in service can be brought back! We can save people who would otherwise be lost! The strategic implications alone are staggering, but more importantly, we won't have to lose family anymore!"
"As long as the King is strong enough and the dying person consents," I confirmed. "It's not unlimited resurrection. The King has to reach them in time, and the dying person has to want to come back. But yes, it significantly expands our ability to preserve lives."
Michael held his set carefully, reverently. The King piece seemed to pulse in his hands, recognizing him. "This is an amazing gift, brother. The implications are staggering. You've given us a way to grow stronger, to protect more people, to save those who would otherwise be lost."
Gabriel hugged me again, tighter this time. "You're doing so much good. Even without fully feeling it, you're still trying to help people. That matters. That matters so much."
I felt that strange twisting in my chest again. Not quite emotion, but the memory of what emotion used to feel like. The World Will's essence was beginning to integrate, helping me slowly reconnect to feelings I'd thought permanently lost.
"Thank you," I said, and meant it. "All of you. For not giving up on me. For still caring even when I can't properly care back yet."
Raphael smiled warmly. "We're family. That's what family does. We don't give up on each other, no matter how long it takes."
Michael placed a hand on my shoulder. "You've secured the Underworld, created a lasting peace between pantheons, and now given us the tools to protect and preserve more lives.
You've accomplished more in the past few months than most angels could in millennia. And you did it while fighting to recover yourself. That's... remarkable."
"I was just solving problems efficiently."
"No," Gabriel said firmly. "You were caring. Maybe you can't feel it fully yet, but you cared enough to find solutions that protected everyone.
You cared enough to build safeguards into these pieces so they couldn't be abused. That's not just efficiency, that's compassion, even if you can't recognize it as such right now."
Over the following weeks, I noticed the changes more clearly.
The World Will's essence was integrating steadily, connecting me more deeply to existence itself. It was subtle, gradual, but undeniable. Like color slowly bleeding back into a world that had been grayscale.
Gabriel said something funny during one of our Tuesday walks, something about a High-class angel who'd accidentally summoned a cloud of butterflies instead of a shield during practice, and I actually smiled. Naturally, without thinking about it.
She stopped dead in her tracks.
"You smiled."
"Yes?"
"No, I mean you really smiled. Not that weird constipated look or the creepy simulation thing. An actual, genuine smile. Like the old you used to."
I touched my face, surprised. "I did. I wasn't even trying to. It just... happened."
She started crying, happy tears this time. "You're coming back. Slowly, but you're coming back. My brother is coming back."
"Gabriel..."
"No, let me have this." She wiped her eyes, laughing through the tears. "Do you know how long I've been waiting to see you smile naturally again?
Centuries! It's been centuries of watching you struggle, seeing you try so hard to remember how to be yourself. And now you're actually making progress. Real, visible progress."
I pulled her into a hug, and this time it felt right. Not calculated or simulated, but genuine. "I'm trying. For you, for Michael, for everyone. I'm trying so hard."
"I know. And it's working."
Michael noticed it too during our planning sessions. We were reviewing the Underworld monitoring protocols when I made an observation about Azazel, something about how his obsession with Sacred Gears was probably healthier than his previous hobbies, which had included "finding creative ways to annoy Heaven."
Michael started laughing. Not just a chuckle, but full, genuine laughter that echoed through the chamber. "Did you just make a joke?"
"I... think so? It felt like a joke."
"Where did that come from?" he asked, wiping his eyes.
"I don't know. It just felt... appropriate? Like the observation was funny and should be shared."
"Keep it up," Michael said, still grinning. "The old you was pretty funny sometimes. Dry humor, unexpected observations. I missed it."
Even Azrael commented during one of our Wednesday morning sparring sessions. We'd been going through sword forms when I suddenly pulled a completely unnecessary flourish, spinning my blade in a complex pattern before the finishing strike just because it looked impressive.
He stopped mid-block. "Did you just showboat?"
"Maybe?"
"Why?"
I considered the question. "Because it was fun?"
Azrael grinned, which was rare for him. "Welcome back, you show-off bastard. I was starting to think you'd forgotten how to have any personality at all."
The changes were subtle but accumulating. Small emotional responses. Hints of genuine feeling rather than pure simulation. It wasn't nearly enough, but it was progress. Real, measurable progress that gave me hope.
By 1350, three days before my planned departure, Heaven was thriving under Michael's leadership. Angels had found new purpose beyond just surviving. The pantheons cooperated through the arbiter system without major conflicts. Peace was stable and sustainable.
My presence had become more liability than asset. Some Angels were still uncomfortable around me despite my improved simulation attempts. My siblings tried connecting but kept hitting walls where my emotions should be. I was a ghost haunting a home that had moved on without me.
It was time to leave. Time to try recovering through different methods. Time to live small again, to experience limitation, to remember what it meant to care about small things rather than cosmic consequences.
My last day in Heaven was chaotic in the best possible way.
Penemue showed up first, barging into my quarters without knocking. Gabriel was with her, serving as the mandatory supervision she now required around me ever since the... incident.
"I made you something, my lord!" Penemue announced, shoving a carefully wrapped package into my hands.
I opened it cautiously, half-expecting another uncomfortable situation. Instead, I found a beautifully crafted journal, much nicer than the ones I'd been using for emotional documentation.
The cover was embossed with intricate patterns of stars and angels, and the pages were the highest quality parchment, thick enough to last centuries.
"For your journey," Penemue explained, her expression earnest. "Keep documenting everything you feel, everything you learn. And when you come back, whenever that is, I want to read every single page."
"This is very thoughtful. Thank you, Penemue."
She smiled, that warm genuine smile instead of the weird predatory ones from before. "You're welcome. And Lord Kokabiel? I'm sorry about... before. I took advantage of your condition. You didn't understand what was happening, and I pushed anyway. That wasn't fair to you."
Then She grinned naughtily. "But the offer is always open if you want to... explore... Ack!" Gabriel, my sweet gentle sister had yanked her by her ear before she went on some perverted fantasy again.
I shook my head. "I didn't understand what was happening, so I can't say I was harmed by it. But I appreciate the apology and acknowledgement that it was inappropriate."
Gabriel cleared her throat pointedly. "And it will never happen again because I'm installing better boundaries and supervision protocols. No more unsupervised visits."
"Yes, maam," Penemue said sarcastically, making Gabriel swat at her with exasperated affection.
Raphael arrived next with an elaborately decorated first aid kit. "I know you don't need this, you're probably the most unkillable being in existence right now. But humor me. Take it anyway. Just in case you decide to play human convincingly enough to get hurt."
"I appreciate the thought." I examined the kit. It was comprehensive. Blessed bandages, healing salves, even some rare medicinal herbs. "This is very thorough."
"Well, you're going to be living among humans. Who knows what kind of situations you'll get into?"
She paused, then added more quietly, "Promise me you'll be careful. Even if you can't be hurt, humans can be. And you're trying to reconnect with them, which means putting yourself in vulnerable situations."
"I promise to exercise appropriate caution."
She hugged me then, quickly but tightly. "Come back when you're ready. We'll be waiting."
Azrael was next, carrying a small box. "This is a communication crystal," he explained. "Direct line to Heaven. If you need anything—information, help, just someone to talk to, use it. I'll answer immediately."
"Thank you, Azrael. I'll use it if necessary."
"Not if necessary. Whenever you want to." He looked at me seriously. "You're not alone in this, Kokabiel. We're your family. Let us help, even from a distance."
Gabriel was crying again by the time they left. "Everyone loves you so much. Even when you can't feel it, even when it's hard, we all love you."
"I know." I put my hand on her shoulder. "And I'm grateful. Even if I can't feel that gratitude properly yet, I recognize its value."
Michael found me two days later in the archives, reviewing peace treaty documentation with Azrael one final time.
"Can I steal him for a bit?" Michael asked.
"Please do," Azrael said. "He's been alphabetizing my work for the past hour. It's efficient but deeply annoying."
Michael led me to one of Heaven's observation decks, where we could see the mortal realm spread out below like a living tapestry. Earth in 1350, plague-ridden and struggling, but still beautiful in its own way. Cities dotted the landscape, forests stretched across continents, oceans glittered in the sunlight.
"You're leaving in two days," Michael said. Not a question.
"Yes. I've finished all the preparations. The Underworld is stable, the pantheons are cooperating, Heaven's internal organization is optimized for your leadership style, and the Angelic Pieces are distributed. Everything is in place for you to succeed without me."
"That's not what I asked."
I looked at him. "What did you ask?"
"I said you're leaving in two days. I was waiting for you to tell me how you feel about it."
"I..." I paused, actually considering the question. Really considering it, not just formulating the optimal response.
"I don't want to go. But I need to. Heaven is too comfortable now. Too familiar. I'm learning to simulate emotions in this environment, but I need to experience actual emotional growth.
Living among humans, dealing with their limitations, facing genuine challenges rather than cosmic ones, that's where I'll recover. Or fail. But I have to try."
Michael nodded slowly. "I understand. I don't like it, but I understand." He was quiet for a moment, staring out at the world below. "You'll come back though, right? Even if it takes centuries? You'll come home?"
"Yes. This is still home. You're still my brother." I felt that twisting sensation in my chest again, stronger this time. "When I'm ready, when I've recovered enough to be the sibling you deserve, I'll come back."
"You're already the sibling I deserve, idiot." Michael's voice was rough with emotion. "Broken or whole, empty or full, you're my brother. That doesn't change. That will never change."
Something cracked in my chest. Not painful, but profound. Like ice breaking after a long winter. I felt my eyes sting, wetness gathering at the corners.
Was I...?
"Are you crying?" Michael asked, shocked and hopeful.
I touched my face, surprised by the moisture there. Tears. Real tears. "I think I am. I didn't... I don't know how to stop."
"You don't stop. You just let it happen." Michael pulled me into a hug, and I found myself returning it, my own tears mixing with his. Real tears from real emotion that I could actually feel, although barely.
It hurt. Everything hurt. The weight of what I'd lost, what I'd become, the distance between who I was and who I'd been. The knowledge that I was leaving, that I might not see him for decades or centuries.
But underneath the pain was something else, relief. Proof that I could still feel, that the emotions weren't completely gone, just buried under layers of cosmic horror and transcendent transformation.
I spoke slowly . "I'm sorry for becoming this. For losing myself. For making everything harder for everyone. For leaving when you need me here."
"Shut up," Michael said, his voice breaking. "You saved us all. You protected Heaven when Father couldn't. You gave everything, including yourself. Never apologize for that.
And you're not leaving because you're abandoning us, you're leaving to heal. That's not something to apologize for."
We stayed like that for a long time, two brothers holding onto each other in the face of an uncertain future. Eventually the tears stopped, but the feeling didn't. That fragile, painful, beautiful feeling of actually caring about something again.
"Thank you," I said finally. "For not giving up on me. For still loving me when I couldn't love you back properly."
"Always," Michael promised. "No matter how long it takes, no matter how far you go, Heaven will always be here waiting for you to come home."
My final night in Heaven, Gabriel organized a small gathering. Just the Seraphs, the inner circle who'd known me longest. Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, Azrael, and a few others who'd been close to me before my transformation. It was supposed to be a secret that I am leaving Heaven.
It wasn't a party exactly. More like... a farewell. A chance to say goodbye properly.
They'd set it up in one of Heaven's gardens, the one Gabriel and I had planted together millennia ago. Crystal flowers hummed softly, glowing in the twilight. Stars sparkled overhead even though Heaven didn't technically need stars.
"We wanted to give you something to remember us by," Gabriel said, handing me a small crystal. "It contains memories. Good ones. From before. Times when you were happy, when we were all together. Maybe they'll help you remember who you were. Who you can be again."
I held the crystal carefully. Inside, I could see fragments of light, memories preserved perfectly.
Me laughing with Raphael after a successful mission. Gabriel and I planting those flowers, her delight as they bloomed for the first time. Michael and I sparring, both of us grinning competitively. Azrael showing me some fascinating historical text he'd discovered, my genuine interest clear on my face.
"Thank you," I said with a small smile. "All of you. For everything."
"Promise us something," Raphael said. "Promise you won't forget that you're loved. Even when you're alone down there, even when it's hard—remember that we're here, loving you, waiting for you."
"I promise."
We spent the evening talking. Sharing stories, laughing at old memories, occasionally crying. It was bittersweet, this goodbye. But it was also necessary.
As the night wore on and angels began drifting away, Gabriel stayed. Just the two of us in the garden where flowers hummed their eternal song.
"I'm scared," she admitted quietly. "What if you don't come back? What if you get lost down there, or decide you don't need us anymore?"
"I'll come back," I promised. "Even if it takes centuries. Even if I change completely. I'll come back because you're my family. That's not something I can forget, even in my current state."
"You better." She hugged me one last time. "I love you, brother. Come home when you're ready."
"I love you too," I said, testing the words. They felt strange, incomplete, but not wrong. "I think. I'm working on it."
She laughed through her tears. "That's good enough for now."
The next morning, I stood at Heaven's gates. My belongings were minimal. Penemue's journal, Raphael's first aid kit, Azrael's communication crystal, Gabriel's memory crystal, and my set of Angelic Pieces carefully packed away.
Michael stood beside me, Gabriel on my other side. Raphael and Azrael smiling despite their unwillingness. The rest of Heaven had come to see me off, thousands of angels filling the courtyards, watching him depart.
"Ready?" Michael asked.
"No," I admitted. "But I'm going anyway."
"That's what bravery is." He smiled. "Safe journey, brother. Come home when you're ready."
Gabriel hugged me one last time. She tried not to cry. "Come back soon, otherwise I'll go out there looking for you."
I tried to smile. " Don't worry. I will."
Azrael patted my shoulder. "Keep in touch, brother. Don't be a stranger. And try not to pick a fight. "
I shook my head." I won't. Unless they come for me."
Raphael wiped her eyes. " Alright. Now go before I start ugly crying."
I patted Gabriel's head and detached from her hug. Then I nodded at the gathered angels. " Take care everyone. "
I spread my wings one last time in Heaven, then dove toward the mortal realm below.
It was time for a new beginning.
*****
So a troll named Cosmic Gear first trashed the story, then left it 1 star. I'm like fine dude, you do you. He claimed he can do better than me in the comments. I'm all for that, I want better stories to read when I'm bored.
Then the funniest thing happened. He made 2 more troll account to review bomb me, then used same account to leave 5 stars for his shitty story 😂😂😂
I mean, atleast change the names of troll account before you commit to the schtick. Even the review is copy pasted. The worst thing is, he is focused more on seeking attention from me than actually writing a decent story. (It's messy ai slop as expected)
Why do Webnovel authors do this shit man! My football story was stopped here for similar shit. Such toxicity, no wonder people switch to other sites now.
Btw, I pity the fools that complained about MC not killing enough or that there's no change in the timeline(not even cannon yet sigh). They probably didn't read my DC story and doesn't know how much I bloody it can get. Indra will play a crucial part later, only for that I kept him alive.