The crooked end of the staff is a bit different, but it’s the right length for a jangbong. Having it in my hands, giving it a quick spin...I feel like I can finally breathe again. Coach notices the change in my demeanor; he smiles and nods. The knife in his hand flashes to become a sword.

Something is carved into it -- I can’t really see, but I catch at least something like wings and stars. His brothers step up beside him. The archangels all burn golden and from their backs burst large, bright wings. I have to squint to try and make them out; they’re like smoke or mist. Though not fully visible, they are still beautiful.

Coach’s, however, are different. His are half-shadow, and behind him, Ramiel’s look like thunderclouds, complete with lighting.

“Ramiel fell,” Death says behind me. “His name means ‘Thunder of God.’”

Ramiel looks at me and winks.

Right. Got it. U-re...wow. He didn’t even try – and no wonder he likes all the kpop songs with thunder or lightning mentioned in the lyrics. I suppose Coach didn’t really try either, now that I think about it.

“Watch this,” Ramiel grins and raises his spear to the sky. The falling stars speed up, one careening towards us only to turn into lightning, charging the sharp point of the weapon. Energy crackles in swirling clouds in the metal. I admit it is cool.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

“Show off,” I hear War snicker.

“I’ll happily wager on this, War,” Ramiel goads.

“You’re on, thunder-boy,” War’s horse snorts and stomps impatiently.

“One last chance,” Michael calls from across the ice. “Hand over the antikhristos -- cease this foolhardy madness.”

And then he says something that actually makes my jaw drop.

“Please.”

In no way do I want to die, but that last word hits me harder than I ever thought it would. Now I understand why Death and the others got so worked up over this, and why those other archangels actually look sad. Coach is the only one who doesn’t look moved -- he’s staring down Michael like fucking lasers are gonna come out of his eyes.

“You would dare beg to take what is mine?” he growls, setting himself as one more than a little accustomed to wielding a sword. “Don’t hold back, brother.”

The trumpets blare again -- my ears are ringing -- and the ground shakes. The sky explodes...and everyone yells, running at each other across the ice.