An angel was sitting behind a desk reading a piece of paper. There was a knock on the door, and he said, “Come in.”

Another angel wearing a golden robe stepped inside, dipped his head downwards, and said, “Mayor.”

The mayor sat up and straightened his back. He leaned forward as he clenched his hands underneath the desk. “Well?” he asked.

“There have been no reports of dead bodies or missing persons,” the golden-robed angel said.

The mayor let out the breath that he didn’t know he was holding and leaned back into his chair. “Good,” he said as the expression on his face relaxed. “Good,” he said again as the corners of his lips perked upwards.

***

Palan let out a yawn as he controlled the carriage he was riding in with his foot. He was sitting in the driver’s seat, leaning back with his hands wrapped around his head and his foot on the orb in the center of the dashboard. The carriage was smaller than Linda’s, but it had curtains that prevented people from looking in from the sides. Behind the driver’s seat, the walls and ceiling were stained with blood, and a few angel corpses were stacked inside, their bodies buried underneath mounds of salt. Sometime during their travels, Cleo had explained to Palan about preserving meats. As for where he got the salt … the salt merchant’s body was also buried within the pile—in fact, the carriage also belonged to said merchant.

Palan had been traveling north along the road, determined to make it to Marossa where the army was residing. Along the way, he’d stop at the rest stops and procure fresh meat. He wasn’t worried about rumors traveling to Marossa and heralding his arrival because everyone who saw him met an unfortunate end. If Cleo knew about the items he left behind, she would’ve thrown a fit, but that was her own fault for fleeing. Without the orange lizardman around, Palan found himself missing the sound of her voice. Although she could be annoying at times, she was really useful to have around. The carriage was silent, and Palan absentmindedly pulled an arm out of the salt pile before snacking on it.

The trip was boring. He never felt boredom in Eljiam. There was always something that needed to be done. In Div’Nya, there was plenty of food, his poison stock was topped off, and he didn’t have to take care of his sister. Even while traveling back at home, he always had to pay attention to his surroundings while going on foot: A sandstorm could blow past at any time. A herd of lions or pack of lizards could be out hunting. Demons would also be lying in ambush. Here, he was traveling much faster than he ever could in Eljiam by using a single foot. There were no bandits or threats on the road. That didn’t mean he let his guard down, but compared to Eljiam, traveling in Div’Nya was easier than sleeping in the desert.

The sound of distant rattling wheels caught his attention, and he sat up. He used his hand to steer the carriage onto the side of the road and covered his body with a cloak. After making sure his facial features were hidden, he jumped out of the carriage and pulled off one of its wheels. He had seen a broken-down carriage during his trip, and the owner called out for him to help. Of course, Palan made sure the owner would never have another problem for the rest of his life.

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A few moments passed before Palan saw a carriage heading south. He raised his cloaked hand, and the carriage began to slow down. A golden-robed angel descended from the carriage when it came to a halt in front of Palan. “Is everything alright?” the angel asked before he saw Palan’s carriage and frowned.

“The wheel just came off, and I can’t put it back on by myself,” Palan mumbled, keeping his head down.

The golden-robed angel narrowed his eyes at Palan before making a grunting noise. He stepped backwards, keeping his eyes on Palan. “We can help you fix your carriage,” the angel said as he retreated. He knocked on the side of his own carriage. “Come out. Someone needs our help to fix their ride.” The carriage doors opened, and three more angels wearing golden robes stepped outside.

A cloth sack flew through the air right above the angels’ heads. “What’s that?” one of them asked. Less than a second later, the bag seemingly exploded into a cloud of green powder that rained down on the angels. One of the angels summoned a gust of wind that blew the powder away, but the damage was done. The angels began to cough as their bodies started shiver. Their skin turned darker as black tendrils snaked down their bodies, traveling underneath their skin.

Palan watched the angels scream from a distance. After he threw the bag and pulled on a string to empty it in midair, he retreated off the road. After traveling through a few cities, he knew what those golden robes represented, and he had no intentions of fighting four greater angels at the same time. Injuries that he suffered would last since Raea wasn’t around to heal him anymore, not that she could even if she was.

“What is this?” one of the angels shouted as his companions fell to the ground beside him. Their bodies writhed and began to expel black liquid from all their orifices. A white light flew out of hands to engulf his companions, but there was no change. The black ooze devoured the white light, leaving nothing behind. The angel fell to his knees before vomiting out a fountain of blood clots. He saw a pair of purple, clawed feet and lifted his head. Palan was staring down at him and his dead companions.

“It looks like you’re going to die soon,” Palan said, his expression empty. He took a step backwards as the angel inched forward.

“P-please,” the angel said as a black liquid ran down the corners of his eyes. “Save me.”

“I have a few questions,” Palan said and tilted his head. “The faster you answer them, the sooner I’ll cure you. Understand?” The angel bobbed his head up and down as his body shuddered. “How far am I from Marossa?”

“At the end of the road, half a day’s carriage ride,” the angel said through gritted teeth.

“How many archangels are there?” Palan asked.

“We have six,” the angel said, causing Palan to frown. “The rebels have two, but there are some strong halflings. Strong as archangels.” The angel gasped and coughed out another clot of blood. His face was void of blood and had a light-green hue to it.

“Interesting,” Palan said as he licked his lips. “How strong is the….” The angel collapsed and fell onto his face, his body unmoving. Palan wrinkled his nose and stepped around the dead angels before entering their carriage. He found nothing of use except for a few barrels of water and food along with a set of golden robes. Too bad they wouldn’t fit because of his tail. Palan hummed as he carried the barrels back to his carriage and reattached the wheel, easily lifting the carriage with a single hand.

The carriage jolted forward and rode past the decaying bodies on the road. There was a smile on Palan’s lips as he forced the carriage to travel faster. Six archangels were more than he bargained for, but he could definitely become an archdemon if he ate them all. He just had to wait for the right opportunity.