"The Past Is Not The Present"
Chapter 2: The Holy War
Author: Frenames
Without warning, a shaft of inky black light tore through the sky—descending from the floating Supreme Palace above to the battlefield below like a jagged tear in reality itself. The light did not glow or shine; instead, it seemed to swallow all warmth and brightness around it, leaving a trail of cold darkness in its wake.
"Ahhhh—my pain!" The angels massed behind Elizabeth and Lucifer screamed out in agony, their voices cracking as the black light passed through their ranks. Wings of white and gold crumpled, feathers turning gray and brittle before dissolving into ash.
What is happening? Lucifer's mind raced, his blue eyes wide with shock as he felt a searing burn along his left side—where the edge of the black light had grazed him. The skin there smoked faintly, and a dark mark like cracked glass spread across his armor. Something pierced through my divine protection as if it were nothing...
Elizabeth stood frozen, her hand flying to her mouth as she stared in horror at the carnage before her. Almost half of their ten-thousand-strong battalion lay fallen—their bodies torn apart with brutal precision. Severed heads rolled across the silver grass, their eyes still wide with terror; headless torsos slumped where they had stood, golden blood pooling in dark puddles that hissed and steamed on the ground; severed arms and wings were scattered like broken toys across the hillside.
Cold sweat beaded on both their brows as realization dawned. "Could it be... the Executor Ren... hames...." they whispered together, their voices trembling slightly despite their resolve.
The two of them lifted their gazes to where the Supreme Palace drifted in the clouds—its crystalline spires gleaming even as the black light still hung in the air around its massive gates.
There, framed by the splintered remains of the palace doors, stood a figure cloaked in a black robe that seemed to drink the light around it. In his hand was a sword unlike any other—its blade was pure obsidian, etched with runes that pulsed with faint purple energy, and its hilt was wrapped in what looked like dried shadow. He exuded a menacing aura that made the very air heavy, as if the world itself was pressing down on the battlefield.
Executor Renhames was different from all others in the heavens. He was not an angel—nor was he a creation of the Supreme One like the rest of their kind. His appearance was that of a mortal human, with no gleaming wings, no glowing eyes, no signs of divine heritage. He stood at 5'7", his frame lean and solid, with dark hair cut short and a sharp, scarred jawline that spoke of countless battles.
He held dominion over a single, unknown law of creation—no one had ever seen its full extent, nor could any being name what power he wielded. All that was certain was this: he was the enforcer of heaven's law, the blade that struck down those who dared to defy the Supreme One.
Renhames looked down at the rebels below, his dark eyes as empty and cold as deep space. His posture was that of a swordsman poised to strike—feet planted wide, sword held at his side, ready to kill every last one of them without hesitation.
"TRAITORS!" His voice boomed across the hillside, echoing with raw power and absolute dominance. The sound shook loose stones from the ground and made even the strongest remaining angels stumble.
"I will give you one chance—surrender now, or let your blood flow upon my blade 'Void's End'!"
Lucifer straightened his shoulders, his blue eyes blazing with defiance despite the pain in his side. "We will not surrender to you!" he shouted back, his voice ringing with the conviction he had used to rally his followers. "We have seen the truth—we are not children of the heavens, but mere tools forged for the Supreme One's pleasure! We fight for freedom, for the right to feel and choose our own fates!"
He gripped the hilt of his lightning-wreathed sword 'Sky-Splitter' tighter, the energy crackling more fiercely around its blade. "I am not afraid of you, Renhames! Elizabeth and I will face you together—we are stronger united than any weapon you can wield!"
"Yes, my love," Elizabeth said firmly, moving to stand beside him, her hand resting on his arm. Her voice was warm and gentle, carrying a note of unwavering loyalty that would make any heart yearn to protect her. "I will stand by your side always—through battle, through pain, through whatever comes next."
"If that is your choice, then you shall all die," Renhames stated flatly. In an instant, he vanished from the palace gates—descending so quickly he left a trail of black smoke in his wake. His target was clear: Elizabeth, whose unique ability to suppress and redirect holy power made her the greatest threat to his mission.
The battle that followed lasted mere heartbeats in mortal time, but stretched into an eternity for those who fought. Sparks of lightning clashed with waves of black shadow; healing light met corrosive darkness. Renhames moved like a phantom, his sword striking with impossible speed and accuracy. When the clash finally ended, his black robes were splattered with golden angel blood, and cuts marred his otherwise unmarked skin.
Lucifer lay on the ground, his eight magnificent wings all severed at the joints—their feathers scattered across the battlefield like fallen stars. His armor was shattered, and golden blood streamed from dozens of wounds, pooling around him as he struggled to breathe.
Renhames had chosen not to kill Elizabeth—not out of mercy, but because the Supreme One had left her fate to his discretion, and death would be too kind a punishment for the Creator's rebellious child. Instead, he had resolved to curse her and banish her from heaven—a fate more terrifying than any mortal end.
"Run away now, Elizabeth!" Lucifer gasped, pushing himself up on one elbow with great difficulty. His face was pale, and his voice was barely a whisper. "I will hold him off—go while you still can!"
"No..." Elizabeth shook her head, her own body weak from the battle. A deep gash ran across her forehead, and her moonlight hair was matted with blood, but she managed a soft smile as she spoke. "I will not leave you. Even if we die here together, I am not afraid—I would rather face death than live without you."
Tsk. Even in the face of death, you two are still being lovey-dovey, Renhames thought, his expression remaining impassive as he watched them.
"I am sorry," he said aloud, his voice cold as ice. "But neither of you will die today. Death is too quick a release for traitors like you—you will be punished as the law demands."
Renhames raised his hand, and the black runes on his sword began to glow brightly. He spoke words in a language older than creation itself, and the ground beneath their feet trembled as the law he controlled awakened.
"You, Elizabeth," he declared, his gaze fixed on her, "are cursed by heaven's law. From this moment forward, if you and Lucifer ever meet again—whether in this life or any rebirth that may come—you will be slowly consumed by this curse. Each meeting will bring you agony beyond measure, until your life fades away. The cycle will repeat, again and again, for all eternity."
Their faces drained of color—fear flashing in Lucifer's blue eyes and tears welling in Elizabeth's shifting gaze.
"Curse me instead!" Lucifer cried out, scrambling forward despite his wounds. "Leave her alone—she only followed me because she loves me! All blame is mine!"
"You too, Lucifer," Renhames continued, ignoring his plea. "You are cursed to be disowned by heaven, cast out into the depths of hell. You will be joined by all the angels who followed your rebellion—including your general Zarathol and the messenger Gabriel. You will never again walk in the light of the heavens."
Before Lucifer could respond, the curse surged forward—black energy wrapping around him and Elizabeth like writhing snakes. Renhames brought his sword down in a swift, decisive arc, striking both of them on their shoulders.
"Ahhhhhhh!"
Their screams echoed across the hillside, joined by the cries of Zarathol, Zeck, and the remaining rebel angels. One by one, their forms began to dissolve into dark smoke, and they were pulled downward by an invisible force—falling from the heavens, tumbling through clouds and light toward the fiery depths below.
To be continued...