Novels2Search
A healthy mind in a healthy body
Extra 3. Son of the Archangel.

Extra 3. Son of the Archangel.

Maturation.

I have always known that Sundays are mystical, I don't know if Christianity is right about it being a sacred day, but it has something in it.

Do I have your attention now? Good if I have it the opening statement is as good a clickbait as I thought it'd be.

My reasons for believing so are complex yet simple. And to explain it I must tell you about me. An introduction is in order.

My name is Michael, son of Ariel and Glory. Ariel is a male name aside of a mermaid’s by the way. I have a twelve year old little sister called Bethel and a six year old brother named Samuel. You should take note of the theme naming of my family, did you notice the abundance of els? My parents are devout christians due to a simple fact. My father was supposed to be sterile, all medical tests said so, but he says one day he heard a voice that told him that if he believed that night he would gain the ability to bear children. It worked, obviously. Spoiler, this is not the only time science fails around my family.

I was born in 2002, January six, ten minutes before midnight, to be concrete. My parents where in Spain at the time and took it as another miracle since the seventh is the Spanish equivalent of Santa Claus, the Three Wise Men. I was a gift from God they said. I am agnostic myself, I don't believe the existence of any God like being could ever be proved or disproved, but I find myself doubting too much to be a proper christian, so out of respect for my parents and their six priest friends I do not fake it.

But I was speaking about Sundays wasn't I? In 2013 was my eleventh birthday, it was a Sunday, thus begins a trend. It was a nice day, I found myself surrounded by friends and family and all the things that would make a child happy. The problem was that at 21:00 exactly, I can't emphasise that enough, I fell under an intense bout of fever at 49° C, lethal levels of fever, that lasted until 24:00, again exactly. If that had been all it would have been just a freak occurrence.

However next Sunday the exact same thing happened. And the next one, and the next one, and it has yet to stop. I was rushed to the hospital the second time it happened, I was diagnosed as being in perfect health. That was weird enough but as the bouts of fever continued the doctors became more perplexed. I was the very picture of health, indeed, aside from the fever I never fell ill. Nothing was wrong to the point that it was wrong, since every human has some problem, but not me.

Papers were written, research done, but the doctors couldn't find what was wrong. No bacteria, no viruses, no hormonal issues, nothing. So not only did I have an illness unexplainable by modern science but said illness was the most regular thing ever. It lasted exactly three hours, to the second. It came exactly every seven days, to the second. And it began when I turned eleven.

No way in hell it was natural. So I began to seek more occult and paranormal explanations. The most I could make was the significance of three, seven and eleven in numerology and the first two in Biblical numerology. Still this instilled an appreciation for mythology, folklore and the occult in me. To this day I still keep myself updated.

So I have grown up. Six years and thirty weeks have passed and aside from my little problem I am a very healthy adolescent. I measure 1.85 meters from head to toe and have wide shoulders. My hair is brown and my eyes are blue. I have been told that I look like an Ancient Greece athlete statue. I am muscular as hell despite barely working out. Also some girls have said that I have ‘soulful eyes of an angel’, as in, three different women that didn't know each other said that. A sixty year old that treated me like his grandson, a sixteen year old that confessed to me last year, and a ten year old that was sleepy.

So yeah, my life is weird and numerologically significant. Some of you may be wondering, why are you writing this Mike. If it is so common what has brought this on?

Well it is simple. As I said, six years and thirty weeks have passed. Or 343 weeks, also known as seven to the third power weeks. Three sevens. Significant you see. And this Monday I was mugged, but something weird happened, I sprouted wings.

I sprouted motherfucking wings that hit the mugger and threw him three meters back. Oh, and each feather on them has a fucking eye. An eye. An eye! Eyes I saw from! And they disappeared once I flew home. I flew.

Once you eliminate the impossible whatever remains is the truth. Since I have never touched S Particles that can't be it. Therefore the supernatural exists and I may be a motherfucking angel. Or a x-man, but I doubt this, biology doesn't work like that.

So my question is thus. What the actual fuck is going on?!

A certain post from a certain Michael Adamson in a certain occult forum.

“Put your hands up, don't move and give me your wallet!”

I Michael Adamson have ended up in a stereotypical situation. I am being mugged by some thug.

This thug is wearing green which, if my limited knowledge of the criminal world is correct, may mean he belongs to a gang. Once again I have limited understanding of those. We don't even have druggies in my neighbourhood for God’s sake!

However my friend Vincent’s house is near a rougher place and in my haste to leave I took a shortcut. I have done so many times and since it is still near the better parts of town I have never been mugged. Until today. Honestly what has this idiot smoked to dare mug someone in the place that is patrolled all evenings by the police in order to put parking fines to the parents that have come to take their children from kindergarten?

Still no matter how much of a moron this dude is, he is still a moron with a gun. And those are more dangerous since they don't know not to shoot. So I have to be careful.

“Which one do I do first? You know, since I can't do all three at the same time.”

Dammit. Sigh. Why must I always ask reasonable questions that will be taken as condescending. Is it a curse to be logical and calm in this world?

“Very funny. You think that because you are a fancy high schooler you are better than me?” He jabbed at me with the gun.

Like that.

“No. I meant it literally.”

“Obviously you throw me the wallet first. Idiot.”

I rolled my eyes and put my hand in my pocket. What? I can recover the wallet once I report this idiot. And I value my life more than thirty dollars and a driving license. It is a pity that probably addicted idiots are way too jumpy.

The Thug 1 decided that I was too suspicious and shouted at me.

“No! You aren't fooling me. You have some plan to try and fuck me over. I will take it.”

“You do know that at range you have the advantage. And that I am a monument to muscle while you are scrawny.”

That was a bad thing to say, judging by the wild face he put.

“So you are looking down on me! You think yourself better because you have a rich daddy and have free time to go to the gym?! Fuck you cunt!”

First, that insult is for women. Second, inferiority complex much? My thoughts were interrupted when I saw that the damned fool actually pointed the gun at me and took out the safety.

My mind slowed to a crawl, as did the world. It was as if every second stretched to an hour, but my reaction speed was the same. I saw the tendons in his finger contract. I saw his skin shift. I saw the hammer fall and the bullet go out of the barrel. But before I could begin to feel fear a much more intense feeling occupied my mind. Pain.

My body began to scorch as if my veins were filled with fire while my lungs felt frozen. My bones cracked and moved in their sockets straining my ligaments. My head felt both light and heavy, as if the top was falling and the bottom rising, crushing everything within. My muscles screamed when a trillion red hot nails penetrated them. My eyes went blank and my ears began to screech. And finally a pressure built in my shoulders, to the point it felt I was going to burst.

It felt as if it lasted an hour but not even a second passed. The bullet wasn't even out of the gun when honest to God wings appeared in my back. They were like stereotypical angel wings except for two details. First at the end of each feather a human like eye grew. It had everything an eye should but their scleras were red, irises golden and pupils black. That last one would be normal were it not for the stars within said blackness. Second, they were massive, so much they clipped through the buildings at each side of the alley.

Before any of us could register them my wings moved and deflected the bullet back at the muggers right leg. He fell to the floor and looked at me in terror.

“What the fuck are you?”

His voice trembled as he saw something impossible. I likewise could only stare at my wings. We remained like that for at least a minute before the thug swore out loud.

“Fuck! I won't let a fucking S freak get me!”

He grabbed the gun and aimed at me again but my wings had none of that. Before he could shoot they lashed at him and blowed him away. He crashed to the ground hard, he had certainly broken some ribs. While he groaned in pain I couldn't help but remain still. I was too stunned to really do anything.

My reverie was broken when I heard sirens and I realised that I was in an alleyway with an injured man and wings. Fearing labs, prisons, and all of that I tried to escape. Or better said I thought I should escape.

My wings answered my desire. They flapped and propelled me at least a hundred meters in the air. I closed my eyes when I saw the distant ground and braced myself for impact. Once I registered that I was not falling I opened my eyes.

The view was breathtaking. I was so above that humans looked small and many buildings were below me. More importantly I was still in the air, which to my knowledge only hummingbirds could do. I tentatively tried to go right, softly. To my surprise it worked. Getting excited I began to experiment. Pitchback, tailslide, bell tailslide, split s, Immelmann turn, chandelle, scissors, high yo-yo, low yo-yo, lag displacement roll, Pugachev cobra, cobra turn, kulbit, Herbst manoeuvre. I did them all, courtesy of my phone and Wikipedia. Yes I used my phone while flying.

In conclusion my flight was intuitive and skilful. I was giddy from excitement when I saw some people making photos of me flying, which scared me and reminded me I was flying to escape. I then did the smart thing, I rose upwards and fled to my house.

A thirty minute car ride was done in less than five minutes. I was fast. It reminded me of that song, as swift as a coursing river. I was certainly a man.

It was with trepidation that I became conscious of the fact I didn't know how to land. My concerns were unneeded. I selected to land in an alley near my house and I did it perfectly. I then quickly run home and entered trying to look inconspicuous.

“Is that you Michael? You are early.”

My mom welcomed me. Her name is Glory Adamson nee Smith, she was glad to get a less common surname. She is shorter than me at 1.65 and I have her brown hair. I think she is neither beautiful nor ugly pleasant is the best way to describe her. Before you ask she is not a housewife, she is a researcher at a lab, but her work day ends at midday.

“I know, talk to you later mum.”

I run up the stairs, came into my room and started the computer. I immediately went to one of the more legit looking occult forums to ask for information on my change.

The first few answers came surprisingly fast, but they were mostly questions and one troll. While I was waiting for more answers my mom came into my room. She put her hands to her waist and stared at me.

“You. Here. Explain.”

I tried to speak but my words stuck on my throat. How would she look at me now that I had wings. Would she look at me like a monster?

“Mom. Please don't freak out.”

“You can't freak me out son. I am your mother I will always accept you. Are you gay?”

“What?! No! What made you think that?”

She raised an eyebrow and pointed at my face.

“You my son are one of the most handsome men I've seen. Many girls have thrown themselves at you. And yet you haven't had a girlfriend yet.”

“I simply haven't found the one.”

I frowned, the fact that while I was attracted to women I had never had a crush was a sore spot. I wanted a girlfriend dammit.

My mom smiled.

“Glad to see you want to settle down. But if you don't give a girl a chance you will never find love. Love at first sight is Romanticism’s great lie.”

“Can we drop this, please?”

“Very well. What is it then.”

“I-” I stopped, how would I make her believe me? Did I bring out my wings? How did I bring out my wings? Do I just have to think of them to get them out? That sounded too good to be- My wings spread at that moment. Ok, that's convenient.

“Hell take me.”

My moms eyes had widened and her mouth dropped. She quickly composed herself and coughed.

Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

“You haven't heard anything.”

“Did you just swear.”

“Anything.”

“Because you always shout when I swear and-,”

“A-ny-thing.”

Her eyes began to scare me so I dropped the issue. I nodded to show my agreement.

“Good. Any idea what your feathery- Are those things eyes?!”

As expected she freaked out.

“Yes?”

“Can you see?”

“Yes.”

She opened and closed her mouth several times before regaining her calm.

“Alright so your wings are Eldritch-esque, no big deal. Where do they come from?”

“I don't know. I was asking in this occult forum and-”

I turned to the computer and saw one more answer. I went to look at it and my mother read over my shoulder.

“Congratulations, you have awakened your supernatural heritage. Your local Council representative should make a visit soon and explain to you what is going on. My guess is you are a Nephilim, half human half fallen angel.” I read out loud.

My mom was about to speak when we heard the doorbell ring.

***

We looked at each other nervously, the timing was a bit weird. I went to my window and looked through it. Once I saw who it was I sighed in relief. It was just a delivery man with a package.

My mom ruffled my hair.

“That scared you didn't it? Stay here while I get the package, we don't want to freak out the poor man.”

My answer was retracting my wings into my… Actually where the hell do they go? I am sure ten meter long wings don't fit in my puny human body. Still, I showed her I could hide my feathery parts.

“That's convenient. And obvious now that I think about it, you weren't winged when you came in.”

She ruffled my head again and left my room. My mom is actually not that old, she had me when she was twenty so I have had to see young men flirt with her from time to time. It's fucking weird so could you delivery man stop doing it? Good, he is leaving already.

I waited a bit before Mom came back with package in hand.

“It's yours.”

I took the package and smiled, my game was here. Single players for life by the way, multiplayer only serves to camouflage bad games with social interaction. Setting it apart I waited for my mother to speak. She did the same, causing an uncomfortable silence to spring. It was Mom who broke it in the end.

“So, wings?”

“Yes.”

“How does it feel? Any discomfort?”

“No, they seem natural as if I always had them. I am a good flier too.”

“How does it feel? Flying that is.”

“It's amazing. Being able to move in three dimensions is liberating.”

Mom nodded, with a thinking look on her face. She eventually smiled having made a decision.

“I don't have everything I need for this, but let us experiment.”

She took my arm and brought me to the basement where she kept some

As I said before my mom is a researcher at a lab. She concretely develops things such as bulletproof windows, vests and things like that. Even Supertechnology! It is because of this that she has a lot of ways to test the composition of my wings even at home.

Our conclusion was that they were definitely supernatural. First of all they were selectively material, if I didn't want them to touch something they would go right through them. I was still physical though, thankfully I didn't run to that wall and only pushed it. Walls, people, water, stone and metal, none of them presented an obstruction.

The second thing we noticed was that they were actually transparent or something like that. Lasers went right through them and they didn't have a shadow, but since they were visible and cameras could photograph them light must be emitted from them. This meant that my wings were a source of light. This led to us experimenting a bit more which made me discover that I could actually light them up. At my maximum they were at least as bright as a 20kW incandescent light bulb, which was the brightest I'd ever seen. Heat accompanied the light, once again at my maximum the basement heated to thirty nine degrees. However I could only maintain this state for ten minutes before I felt exhausted and my wings vanished to rest.

During this period of inactivity Mom and I went to the kitchen to eat a little, well mostly I. Manifesting all that light left me famished. There she discussed what could this mean.

“So if that post wasn't made by a delusional person we can conclude that there is indeed a supernatural community. They are governed by this council thing and supernatural creatures exist. Also angels exist for sure. Is that all we know?”

“Gulp. Yes, pretty much.”

“That sucks. I'd rather have more knowledge of what my son is getting into.”

“I may not get actually involved in anything, I just have wings.”

“Yeah right. If these people are secretive enough to keep this level of information erasure they will get you involved.”

While having these ominous thoughts I munched on my sandwich. It was a terrifying prospect, that my life hanged in the hands of others and I had no idea what they wanted. My mood was worsening when the little munchkin came down from his room.

Samuel while childish resembles me a lot, which makes my mother joke about having only given birth to ladykillers. This adorable kid is the source of many of my headaches being very talkative and unable to keep a secret. Thankfully he isn't very noisy or attention seeking.

His inability to keep a secret was a liability though, particularly in this current situation. Because of this I dreaded the moment he opened his mouth. He grabbed the edge of his shirt, lifted his head, bit his lip and said as his eyes teared.

“Mooom. You promised you would play with me, why are you with Mike?”

Dodged a bullet there. Also those puppy eyes should be forbidden. This kid knows of his cuteness I swear, why would he put the fabled puppy dog eyes expression otherwise? He will be dangerous to women one day.

Mom sighed and flicked his forehead.

“What have I said about using those eyes to manipulate people?”

“To not do it.” He grumbled. “But people always listen when I do this.”

I knew he did it on purpose!

“Good. But you are right I promised. I will now go once I finish with Michael.”

Samuel smiled brightly and run upstairs.

“He is going to be dangerous to women one day.”

“Don't plagiarise me Mom, I thought that first.”

“If you don't say it it doesn't count. We will keep experimenting later, I want to test their hardness, tenacity and strength when they are material. Until then play with your wings, see how much you can do with them.”

I saluted to her and she rolled her eyes and went to my brothers bedroom. With my mom's order to play with my hidden parts, that made me chuckle, I went to my room.

Among the things I discovered three were prominent.

First, my wings are soft and silky to the touch. Even the eyes are like that, despite looking like they should be fleshy.

Second, they were flexible. So much that I could wrap myself on them as if they were blankets. Due to this I managed to fold them from massive to what winged humans are typically represented as.

Finally, I discovered that the energy I put into making light and heat can be molded. I managed to concentrate it on the edge of my wings and it formed what I think was a little plasma. I collapsed after that.

I was woken up that night by my dad. He gave me his hand to lift me before he looked at my back.

“Where are they?”

I tried to extend them but my rumbling stomach disagreed.

“Not now. Famished.”

“Then let's get you dinner.”

***

We went to the living room and began to eat. In it was my last sibling, my little sister Bethel. She resembles my father most. She has his black hair and blue eyes as well as his nose, like me. She, to my mothers chagrin, already shows signs of being beautiful, her face now in the transition between that and cute. Since my father also is average looking we always wonder why the combination of their features gave birth to, well us. I take my height from my father but he has, for now, a thick but short beard I can't equal.

“And Katie tried to get into the pool but coach David didn't let her.”

Mom smiled at my sister’s recollection of her summer basketball training.

“That is interesting dear. Has she stopped being mean to that other girl, Lily was it?”

“Yes Lily. She hasn't bothered her anymore since you speaker with the teachers. They told her parents and they scolded her.”

“That is good. I don't know what we're Lily’s parents doing, to not do anything about her bullying.” Dad complained.

“They might not have known if Lily didn't tell them.”

“I'd believe that if she was older but being as young as she is she must have told them.”

“Let us drop this matter, since we can't do anything about it.” Interrupted Mom when she saw Samuel playing with his food. “Don't play with your food Samuel.”

He jumped a little and looked around like a deer in headlights. It was a bit funny to see, above all when he dropped his head and mumbled an apology while pouting. Correction, that was adorable.

I couldn't help but smile at the sight and pet him. He raised his head and smiled at me, it warmed my heart. If only he knew when to shut up he'd be the best little brother. Better than Bethel’s bratty tendencies when she was his age.

“What about you Michael? How was your day?” Asked Dad.

“Fine actually. In the morning I read some book and then I went to eat to Vincent’s. We watched a series together.”

“What was it?”

That question made me embarrassed, that particular anime I will admit was a bit of a guilty pleasure.

“Does it matter?” I asked in a perfectly normal tone. Definitely not reddening.

Mom smiled.

“How do they grow, he has finally began to see things his parents would disapprove of. He even is embarrassed about it.” She faked wiping some tears.

“Indeed he has.” Said father in a wistful tone. “Soon he will begin to shout at us to stay out of his business. I knew his reasonable adolescence couldn't last, the horrors other parents spoke of begin. Woe is unto us!”

“Woe is unto us!” Repeated my mother.

“Yeah, yeah. Why don't you keep making fun of me.” I grumbled.

“Woe is unto us!”

That traitor Samuel. He will pay for this vile betrayal with TICKLES!

My glare was so eloquent that he actually shrunk into himself.

“Um. Sorry?”

Your cuteness won't save you. Thine punishment shall be beheld soon. If that even makes sense.

My dad, mom and sister began laughing.

“Honestly,” spoke my sister, “I can't believe you are so touchy Michael. Watching porn is something many do, you only need to know not to go too far. We won't judge you for that.”

“Not porn, ecchi.” Wait what did she just say?

“What do you even know about those things?! Aren't you a little young for that?!”

“Women mature faster.” She looked down (up in reality, she is too short) on me as if she was superior.

If she is like that I have to bring my secret weapon!

“And what about Frederick?”

“Uwah?!”

My sister sputtered and turned red while trying to deny she liked any Frederick. Young love~. It never fails.

“And I don't know what you are speaking about.” She finished and looked at me daring me to contradict her.

“But I never said anything about liking him~ I only asked if you were more mature than him.”

One, two, three. And the realisation that she dig her own grave settles in. My sister collapses in her chair and turns red.

“Stop teasing your sister Michael, that's not very mature of you.” My father chastised me.

“Alright.” I said.

“But you have to present him to us dear. Your father has to play the overprotective part.”

“I do?”

“Of course! You have to tell him that if he hurts your little girl you have a rifle with his name on it.”

“First, don't project. Second, the rifle is yours.”

“No it isn't.” My mother retorted before turning her head. “It's of the lab, I've just loaned it.”

“I don't like Frederick!”

“But Beth, I heard you whisper his name yesterday while drawing hearts in your notebook.”

Nice one Samuel! Though judging by how she is looking at you, you have just earned another tickling session.

***

Once we had made the munchkins go to bed Dad and Mom sat with me.

“Alright son. Your mother has told me everything that has happened and I've noticed that you didn't tell her how you got your wings.”

Oops. I immediately corrected that little slip up.

“So we may be visited by the police then. Got it.”

I frowned at those words.

“That is all you say? I injured a man!”

“Michael dear, you were being mugged and instinctually responded. We can't blame you. Most Supers do worse than that the first time they show powers.”

My father intervened then.

“Speaking of which. Are you sure it isn't S powers?”

“No. I have never gone near that stuff.”

***

S-Particles. Created thirty years ago in an experiment that tried to start nuclear fusion with high-powered lasers in Germany. The lithium used in the experiment transformed into a green sludge. This sludge was examined and found to be formed of never seen before particles.

Studies done to these particles showed that they stored great amounts of energy that was released when excited. But this was not what made them famous to the general populace. Two years later one of the scientists studying it broke a container and was exposed to it. He fell into a coma for three days and when he woke up he did so changed.

The first change to be noticed was that his body now produced S-Particles. The second was that when he concentrated he could consume them to make bubbles of slowed or accelerated time.

Indeed S-Particles did the unthinkable, it brought superheroes to us. Exposure to S-Particles grants the person superpowers fueled by S-Particles. As such when the body runs out of them the powers stop. The reason why this did not gather much attention was because the powers were weak. The consumption to power ratio was low, and the powers weak. Because of this the powers were more of a curiosity. The scientific world was more interested in their battery potential.

This changed a year after the exposure, when at least three dozen individuals had been exposed as tests. The first scientist, more commonly known as Relativity, evolved his power. He now had more S-Particles and his power had expanded, allowing him to speed or slow himself and increasing the maximum time distortion he could make. He managed to beat a squad of soldiers by himself.

This changed how powers were seen. If they could improve, where was the limit? Governments rushed to hide the production method, hoping to avoid the rise of supervillains. They were too late, the method had been shared in the scientific community freely as the discovery of the century. And some less savoury individuals sold it to criminal organisations.

For the next three years battles between the superpowered crime syndicates and the superheroes have happened. There have been casualties. Some African countries now have superpowered warlords. The UN affiliated countries began to develop S-Units. Groups of people granted powers and trained on them to form a legal enforcement response to supervillains.

Thankfully the comics situation of cardboard prisons hasn't happened. We used S-Particles to power what is called Supertechnology, that is the creation of machines or materials with powers. These allow for the creation of prisons with an average of one escape per decade between all of them. Taking into account some were faulty and some have never been escaped from… Yeah, the Joker couldn't exist in this world, thankfully.

However each day S-Particles become more accessible, to the point the number of powered surpasses the amount of law enforcement integrants with powers.

The UN has recognised the threat and began the Power Development Program. From next year on all citizens of UN charter members will be eligible to be exposed to S-Particles. If they can pass some fitness, responsibility and ethics exams they will be given superpowers and be trained on them. They will be judged more harshly if they commit crimes, since powers are aggravating circumstances, but they receive license to use their powers. Can you imagine how much you can be paid to move heavy containers with super-strength? With more powered on the street there will be less people willing to take the risk of committing crimes, is the rationale behind this measure.

Some of you may be wondering. But what if you get a power that can't be used for getting money or whatever? If you get super vision you won't be safer nor can you earn money. What do you get? The answer is still security.

S-Particles can be used for more than powers. Two things that are known until know.

The first one is that S-Particles give enhanced bodies, enough to resist hits that would break bones of baseline humans. Super strength, super speed, super toughness, super reflexes, super senses, super processing skills and super health are given to all powered, at low levels. One level beneath your Power Level, I will explain this later.

The second is Enhancement. You use S-Particles to enhance one of your attributes mentioned earlier. So you do get security.

The program hasn’t started yet, and I haven't taken any S-Particles. So it is not a superpower.

***

“Are you sure son?” Asked my father.

The one to answer was my mother.

“No, what he has shown is far above Level 0 and maybe even Level 1, I have not yet tested the strength of his wings. Flight, intangibility, vision through many eyes, massive light and heat production. Too many powers for a Level 0 ability.”

I did mention my mom works with Supertechnology right?

“Alright. Can you show me?”

I assented to my father and brought my wings out. To say he was surprised would be an understatement.

“The fuck?!”

Yea, the hundreds of eyes will do that.

I never felt as good about the parents I had been born to than when my father quickly composed himself and smiled to reassure me. Neither of them had rejected me.

“So this must be what the Sunday Fever was about.” He commented.

“Probably, it was too regular to be a normal illness. But if it was an angel’s growing pains it may make sense.” Said my mother.

My father nodded at that.

“Your wings do look terrifying enough to be those of an angel. Should you go around saying Fear Not?”

“Haha.” I deadpanned. “There is one problem against this theory. Angels do not marry or reproduce, they're asexual.”

That stopped them in their tracks. Theology for the win!

“So not an angel. You do resemble the Cherubim or Ophanim with your many eyes though. What now?” Asked my mother.

“We wait for this Council?” I shrugged.

“I suppose.” Said my father.

“Then it is experimentation time!”

I could see the madness in my mother's eyes. I looked to my father in order to seek help, but he shrugged. Great.

***

The results of that night’s tests are:

Hardness? Mohs scale of hardness 11. Suck it diamond drills!

Stress resistance? If a tank can handle it so can I. Curiously my wings don't break when you go above their capabilities, they dematerialise turning into what I guess is a spiritual state. Their intangible state basically. This means I can use them as armour.

Heat resistance? They didn't even seem to be affected. Neither did cold do anything to them.

Pressure resistance? Up to a 100 atmospheres. Once again until they dematerialised.

I would like to remind you that this is when I force them to materialise. In other circumstances they are invulnerable.

Finally the last statistic. They can hit with a force of 20 kN. For comparison a clean and jerk routine has at maximum 8 kN of force.

That night I went to bed exhausted. I fell asleep when I touched the mattress.

Next morning a surprise awaited me in the door.

“Mrs. and Mr. Adamson? I am Sigelhem Sturlusson. I have come on behalf of the Council to speak about your son.”

The man who said this was an old man in a cyan blue robe with a silver scale engraved on the front. For some reason the neighbours didn't seem to realise the strangeness of this attire.