Of course, they felt it.


    The Denizens of Caesia felt the waves of the celestial battle and the wrath of the Angels.


    But, while most others were frightened, the faithful on Caesia prayed, knowing to trust in the Angels.


    Then a star fell.


    It landed in the sea, and many pondered the meaning of its arrival.


    Some wondered if an Angel had fallen, but such a notion was so preposterous that it was completely disregarded as the masses pondered.


    In reality, that notion was the exact truth.


    Yana, once Agnel of Faith, fell into the ocean where, after regaining consciousness, he swam to a nearby uninhabited island.


    His descent brought with it a heavy storm which he hid from at the foot of a ridge.


    For the first time in an eternity, he felt pain as a human would, hunger and thirst.


    But, more painful than any of those was the fact that, as a human, he could no longer directly peer into the centremost place.


    Now, even as he took to his knees and prostrated himself, when he closed his eyes, all he saw was his eyelids.


    He let out a deranged chuckle upon realizing that this was how ordinary humans had been praying the whole time.


    Unable to see divinity, they closed their eyes and believed in the truth of Kiln even without seeing a fragment of a glimpse of him.


    Yana laughed and laughed until his voice faded.


    He had, for some reason, concluded that he was the most faithful, but he was just…


    Yana didn’t know where to begin.


    He had done so much wrong in such little time that a simple word of apology would be akin to an insult.


    Also, due to his limited ability to perceive and comprehend, he could only vaguely remember what it was like in the Seventh Dimension.


    Heck, he couldn’t even picture the faces of the other Angels.


    All he could do was wallow in the crevasse he had crawled into until the rain stopped, which it eventually did, allowing him to step out and greet the rising sun.


    But even in this pitiful form, he could feel it.


    The waves of his rage and the aftermath of his sins.


    They appeared as nearly invisible waves in the air.


    Waves that, when one came into contact with them, made one tremble with dread and sorrow.


    Fresh tears fell from Yana’s eyes as he pondered what to do with the meagre life the others had given him.


    He had caught a glimpse of the situation in the Hereafter.


    Things were dire.


    He had cruelly twisted Vidente’s creations and turned them on her and the others, now they were growing in strength and Malice with each second that passed.


    Yana needed to, at the very least, resolve that particular problem.


    He clutched his bare chest as he recalled the moment when Kōritsu sacrificed himself to protect the lower dimensions.


    This would buy him the time he needed to mobilize a force that was able to counter the Divine Armaments.


    The Dragons were—


    Yana fell to his knees and vomited a little bit og blood and Malice upon recalling the… ones who had invoked his wrath.


    He… he hated them.


    Even now.


    As he knelt, pitifully and ashamed, he couldn’t let it go.


    He hated them for daring to touch Kiln’s place of rest.


    But Yana acknowledged that he had overreacted a little.


    But if Kōritsu hadn’t stopped him, Yana would have just killed the stupid Dra— thing and gotten it all over with.


    Yana took a deep breath and ceased all of his tumultuous thoughts and focused on what he needed to do.


    So, he stood up and wiped the Malice from his mouth, wincing as it burnt his throat, lips and hand.


    He then looked around in search of food and fresh water.


    .


    ..


    Fogo watched, with crossed arms and a heavy brow, as the Chosen, mortal beings who had been brought to the Hereafter so that they could experience a blissful eternity, marched and trained for war.


    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    It filled him with anger but he supressed the rising flames within him because there was something inside him that was feeding off of those daker thoughts.


    The remnants of Romach.


    The one who Fogo could honestly say he hated above everything in existence.


    Fogo shook his anger away and turned to the Dragons, who led the training warriors.


    The Dragons had not only witnessed the cataclysmic clash between the Angels, but they participated in and understood the nature of conflict very well which is something that Fogo appreciated.


    He descended to the Dragon Lord’s newly built palace and was greeted with bows from all who were present, including Tsar Gules himself.


    [Yes, Your Grace?] Gules asked humbly as his nose touched the ground.


    [Come.]


    Gules followed the Angel out of the palace and to a vacant spot in the Seventh Dimension.


    The two sat for a moment, and Gules watched with bated breath as Fogo deeply sighed.


    [How are you feeling?]


    Tsar Gules was taken back by Fogo’s question.


    It was so simple, and yet he didn’t know how to answer it.


    What did the Angel want to know exactly?


    Was it a personal question?


    A strategic one?


    [Err… The Scarlet Swarm is as healthy as ever, Your Grace.] That was all Gules could think to say, but this just made Fogo sigh, which made Gules panic because he thought he had somehow disappointed the Angel.


    [No, I meant you. What’s going through your mind now that everything’s said and done?]


    Oh.


    Gules wanted to burn himself alive for not understanding what the Angel meant.


    The reason why Fogo’s Angelic voice wasn’t affecting Gules as strongly and why they were having a tricky time communicating was because the Tsar had ascended to a level that matched the Divine Armaments, and, at least in theory, he could resist Fogo’s will if he wanted.


    That said, Gules didn’t mind serving the Angels.


    He had seen what unchecked ambition could lead to and was content with being one of the many strings in the tapestry of existence.


    [I am… alright.] Gules finally regained the air of a lord as he allowed himself to be himself next to Fogo, who nodded.


    [I was being sincere when I said that the swarm was doing well. I truly am pleased to see so many Dragons flying about.]


    Fogo wasn’t sure, but it felt as though Gules was smiling, which he appreciated.


    [Good.]


    The two warriors then spent a few silent moments together, peering into all that was below as they reflected on all that had happened.


    [i… I vow to atone for my sin—]


    [You don’t need to do anything, child.]


    Gules’s eyes widened.


    [Kōritsu, as much as I hate to admit it, was right. You made a mistake, but it did not warrant the annihilation of your kind. So, hold your head high so that shame doesn’t weigh your step when we finally charge side by side on the Final battlefield.]


    Gules felt his entire soul lighten as Fogo walked away.


    He still had much to learn.


    Even after all this time.


    Fogo, simultaneously, appreciated the time he spent with the Dragons.


    They seemed like an honest bunch.


    Violent and loud but they were so beautifully simple that he sneakily made efforts to interact with them as much as possible.


    He eventually returned to Vidente’s side as she sat on a bench in the middle of one of the many gardens in the Hereafter.


    She had yet to return to her lab and the Oracles were running things on their own while awaiting her return.


    Fogo sat by her side as she unblinkingly peered down into the third dimension, witnessing a million sunsets.


    [I… I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to create any living thing or weapon ever again.] She whispered, making Fogo hold her hand a little tighter.


    [That’s fine.] Fogo softly hummed.


    Vidente’s widened a little at his response.


    [You’re not going to try and convince me?]


    [Baby, you and I did many terrible things with the power over creation, however limited it was. Our hubris was bound to run back and bite us eventually. You could sit and do nothing until the last star dies, and I wouldn’t judge you because, if I wasn’t so stubborn, I’d do the same.]


    Vidente was taken by Fogo’s smile.


    [Do you mean it?] She whimpered, and Fogo nodded, prompting the now weeping Angel to wrap her arms around him.


    [I’ll still support all of you, but please… don’t ask me to create any living thing or weapon.]


    [Don’t worry. We won’t.]


    .


    ..


    H''erev was born from suffering.


    An amalgamation of flesh and life essence, his every cell screamed for death, but no matter how many times his form proved unsatisfactory, she made him anew, adding more flesh and more life essence.


    Before he received his Halo, all he knew was unmoving, helpless pain.


    Vidente had remade him so many times with her near infinite feathers that he could no longer see a world without pain.


    His creator knew this, of course, and so made him unfeeling.


    She did the same for all one hundred and six thousand of his siblings.


    They were designed to be living weapons and their only masters were supposed to be the Angels but Yana had given them something they could never have even imagined asking for.


    Freedom.


    As he unshackled their pain, that which Vidente had muted, it transformed, feeding off of Kilnessence and chewing on creation itself.


    Malice.


    And it tasted so sweet.


    So much so that they didn’t hesitate when Yana, once Angel of Faith, told H''erev’s kind to attack the other Angels.


    They did as they were designed to, and they performed swimmingly.


    Yes, the gap in power between even the Greater Armaments, like H''erev, and the Angels, was impossibly big, the Armaments were designed to close such gaps.


    Using the millions of Oracles that swam in their veins, they absorbed Kilnessence and manipulated it just as well as any Angel.


    Exactly as they were designed.


    And so they fought toe to toe with their creators.


    But, in the chaos of that most terrible of battles, one shone the brightest.


    The Angel that birthed Malice and freed the Armaments.


    Even H''erev, full of hatred as he was, failed to imagine just how angry Yana was.


    He wondered what despicable sin had been committed to turn the wings of an Angel black.


    That very same Angel then tore the otherwise indestructible wings of his kin asunder all in the name of… something.


    H''erev knew the reason, of course.


    It was because of Kiln.


    God.


    Some foolish mortal being had dared to touch the most sacred of places, where Kiln soundly slept.


    But… even as H''erev stood in the tenth Dimension, he couldn’t see or sense Kiln.


    His brilliant white eyes couldn’t see a thing beyond the physical.


    Beyond the real.


    This made him wonder what Yana was even fighting for.


    [H''erev… Lord Brother, what should we do now?] Romach asked as he attached Fogo’s wings to the top of his now blackened helmet, creating a blasphemous plume.


    H''erev looked down at his brother with unfeeling eyes.


    This was the first time they had spoken since their activation, and even as corrupted as they were, Romach obeyed their rankings that had been encoded into the very being of every Heavenly Armament.


    [The barrier is impervious so long as it is fed, so the only thing we can do is prepare.] H''erev spoke with the dignity of a leader. While he himself was still analysing the situation and pondering his own existence, there was no doubt in his words.


    War was coming.


    And his eyes told any that met them to stand fast.


    [But we stand at the pinnacle. What else could we do to be more efficient?] Romach asked as he put on his helmet, and this prompted H''erev to step forward, shaking the entire tenth dimension.


    [We must become masters of Malice.]


    TO BE CONTINUED


    <hr>


    Afterword


    Thank you for reading HSA! This marks the end of Volume 1!