Coach is heavy, but at the very least I think he’s only got some broken bones that probably really need attention. Coach has been busted up a lot since all this began. That guy -- God -- is ignoring us, talking with Death and the others. If I had to guess, it looks like he’s figuring out what was going on and why they were so intent on saving me.

“...I had healed before.”

Say what now.

Coach groans. It’s like my dad did when I was younger and he realized it was time for a not-so-fun explanation.

Raphael is still talking, going on about concussions in a hospital and then about ice, drowning, and a child. Shit, that was me!

“You’re...you’re the one who saved me,” I blurt out, gazing wide-eyed at the archangel. “The one in my dream!”

Raphael looks at me and smiles; it’s so kind it practically hurts. I think I might like this guy best of his siblings. “It wasn’t a dream,” he says. “And, no, I only healed you after you had already been pulled from the water.”

“Then who…”

Raphael nods to my side and Coach is deliberately avoiding looking at me. He keeps his eyes fixed off into some unknown distance, expression deliberately fixed like he’s not sure whether I’m gonna yell at him or slap him.

I blink. Holy shit. “That was you.”

He nods, still not looking at me.

I gape at him like a landed fish as I take this moment of not-fighting to try and process everything I realized I never knew about the man who is apparently not even human, but also my father and saviour.

“Father, I--”

“Mikha’el,” God sighs, it’s a sound filled with both disappointment and exhaustion.

Coach tightens his grip, fingers digging into my arms. My heart beats faster -- so does his. Is he scared?

I mean...it is God, I guess.

I’d giggle because, holy shit, it’s God. The actual God. But also, holy shit it’s God and They turned two armies to dust and froze everybody without even breaking a sweat and even I’m not stupid enough to think Death would save my ass by turning on God.

But at least I know that Coach would. I look over and there’s God standing in front of us, looking between me, Michael, and Coach.

They sigh again, shaking his head, “I shouldn’t be surprised that you two would quarrel -- is it really so impossible for you two to ever not escalate a disagreement?”

“But, Father,” Michael stands, “that boy is--”

“I already know: you believe him to be the antikhristos that will set off the Apocalypse and signal the ruin of the world.”

Coach snorts, “Bullshit.”

“Agreed,” God says. “But only if one knows not only Hyun, but the whole truth of the bigger picture. That being said, you were both so reckless in your animosity and refusal to lose to the other that you very nearly actually set off an Apocalypse.”

“Um...question?” I raise my hand, and almost immediately put it back down. Well that was embarrassing. “If you knew I wasn’t the Antichrist, why didn’t you just stop everything earlier?”

War is laughing behind Death, biting down on his knuckles; Gabriel shoots an amused look at Uriel, who shakes his head with a smile. You’d have never known they were on different sides moments ago.

“Tell me, Hyun,” God says, “have you ever failed at something?”

I frown and shrug, “Sure. Nobody’s perfect.”

“Whenever you failed, what would your parents say?”

I shrug, “Try again. Do better.”

“You were trusted to make your own mistakes and learn from them.”

“Yeah…”

God spreads Their arms in silent response. I understand what he’s trying to say.

“Yeah, but...I’m not going to potentially end the world every time I make a mistake,” I grumble.

God laughs, “Well we can’t know that for certain, now can we?”

“Um, I’m pretty sure we can,” I retort, realizing too late that I hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

Famine giggles. Only Famine would giggle like that. Michael mutters something in a language I don’t understand, but clearly it wasn’t very nice because Coach snarls.

“Children…” There’s a warning in God’s voice; They pinch the bridge of Their nose. “A few minutes of truce is all I ask.”

“Truce?” Coach laughs bitterly. “My brother doesn’t believe in any truce -- not with me.”

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Do I not? I left you alive after you fell,” Michael snaps.

“Only so you could hunt me relentlessly for the rest of eternity. And when that didn’t soothe your pride, you--”

“ENOUGH.”

The ground shakes, and that voice reverberates deep into my bones. I resist the urge to flinch.

“No, not enough!” Coach shouts at God. “Always you cut me off -- always you ignore my arguments, shooting them down as nothing more than pride, as hubris. But not this time, Father. Not this time.”

One could hear a pin drop in the echoing silence.

“Speak, my son.”

It’s heartbreaking. God looks so tired...and sad. Coach, meanwhile, lays into him, switching languages while he’s at it, getting more and more worked up, waving his hands around wildly. Michael’s face gets dark and more murderous with each word.

But Coach is still going. God takes it, but I can’t anymore.

“STOP!” I yell. It echoes. Everyone turns to look at me. “Just stop,” I say, more quietly.

Coach blinks at me, surprised, cheeks a little red from shouting, “Hyun, he--”

“Yeah, I get it.” I step away from him and square my shoulders to God. “I think maybe we should talk?”

God smiles and motions away from everyone. We walk. I can feel everybody watching us, but God isn’t bothered by the attention. I laugh at the surreality of this entire situation.

“Sorry,” I try to stifle the sound with my mouth.

“No, please,” God smiles. “Tell me.”

“I just can’t get over the fact that I’m walking and talking with God, and that he looks like...” I motion at his appearance.

They laugh, “‘I am that I am.’ It is a mistake to assume I would fit into the human presumption of a traditional gender binary, even if my children do call me ‘Father.’ But, regardless of that, I thought this would be a form well-suited for this moment. Though,” They pause, “I suppose…”

The features shift, becoming softer and more delicate. The skin lightens, the lashes and hair lengthen.

“Whoah.”

“Whoah, indeed,” God smiles, the now-feminine voice higher and, yet, still the same. It’s still that warm, smiling kind of voice that also exudes total authority. “You can close your mouth, Hyun.”

Right. “Sorry.” We start walking again, and God’s hanbok swishes gently with each step. “Why’d you let Coach talk to you like that?” I ask. This isn’t the reason I wanted to talk, but I couldn’t shake God’s sad expression.

“Because he is my son,” God says. They don’t even hesitate. “And I love him.”

That makes me stop.

“Are you surprised?”

A bit.

“I mean...didn’t you like...cast him out of Heaven and all that?”

“And all that,” God nods. “And while it pained me, I don’t regret that choice. I loved my son enough to let him go -- no...to set him free and let him rule his own kingdom.”

Wow.

“Does...does he know that? Because he really laid into you there.”

“I can only hope that, if he does not, he may yet come to realize it in time. But,” They pause to face me, “I think you want to ask about something else.”

Where do I even start?

“Just to be clear, I’m not...I’m not really the Antichrist, right?”

God laughs, “No, Hyun, you’re not. You are at heart a good person. Everything else is little more than window dressing”

"But..."

They place a hand on my shoulder, "No Antichrist would ever, for one moment, doubt why those on their side have chosen to stand with them. No Antichrist would rush to stop Michael from harming his brother the way you did." Their smile widens, practically playful, "And no Antichrist would ever have the honour of being the future bearer of the title of Death the way you do."

I blink. “What?”

If you die, so do I, Death had said. And, for now, I am not yet ready for this all to end.

“I’m...I’m going to be Death?” my voice cracks on the last word. "How...why do I have to...."

"I admit it was one of my moments of temper," God sighs. “I wished to punish my too-often wayward children and their cohorts. Their dalliances with humans, which were never meant to happen, rarely bore fruitful results. More often than not, it caused nothing but misery for the humans left behind -- with a few exceptions,” They smile at me. “So I tied their children to the Horsemen, to whom I gave the autonomy to be free from the interference of their immortal parents.”

"But we, I mean...any of us who were born because of that just...got punished? We didn’t ask to be born, let alone to have an immortal birth parent."

“That is true.” Their smile turns wistful. “I didn’t wish to punish the children needlessly. Your time as a Horseman burns away the divine or the demonic from your souls and leaves only the best part behind: the human part. It also helps you build goodwill towards your next life so that, hopefully, it will be better than your first.”

“I don’t know how much you keep an eye on us down here,” I say carefully, “but punishing children for the sins of their parents is considered pretty outdated nowadays. Since, you know, it’s pretty unjust to those children; there’s not much honour in such a thing. Plus, I’m pretty sure that too many royals died thanks to that kind of thinking.”

"Mm," God thinks for a moment. “You should get Death or even Gavri’el to tell you more, if you’re curious. But as for this matter, I suppose you did bring about a promised revelation: the flaws in Heaven’s systems. I am but God – while blessed with more than humanity, I do not claim perfection. Some things need more consideration, and those that are within my power, I shall do so.”

Whoah.

“But I will tell you this," the staff Lucifer had given me appears in Their hands. "This staff is a tool, neither intrinsically good nor evil."

"Death’s said something similar about her scythe."

God nods. "This particular staff belonged to the First Death, who bore a title even older than that. Though you may not have as much choice as you wish, when you find yourself in a position to bear it in a name different from its origin, you shall have to decide your way, the same as your predecessor."

God presses the staff into my hands. It glows from deep within with gentle, cold light.

"That's kinda vague, you know," I laugh weakly.

"If I told you too much, I would not be able to enjoy watching you grow on your own."

"Right: free will."

"Now you're catching on. But now," God sighs, "I think we should go make sure my sons are not making another attempt at killing each other."