His eyes are the lifeless, the colour of death, his body scrawny, skin and bones, cloaked in an black overall. The sword he holds in his hand, dark as night, was curved at the tip, looking similar to a cross between a scythe and a blade. Pointing it at the person crouched injured on the ground, his raspy voice continued: “The mercy of afterlife, to a sinner as great as you, or a dog’s death lies in your choice, Crist.”

“I still die in the end, don’t I? What is the difference then…”Crist spite back. His eyes began to flare with a deeper, darker shade of green as he looked at the Archangel in front of him. The Archangel of Death, Azrael. 

“Is it Azrael? Oh no….” Angeline muttered on the opposite end of the transmitter. Even amongst the twelve archangels, Azrael was considered to be the craziest. The reason? No one will be left alive, friend or foe, after he arrives. 

“Looks like you have rejected my final mercy. As expected of the <>. You will regret that choice.” His footsteps rang out, loud and clear, in the empty warehouse. With each and every step, the ominous mist hanging around him gets thicker and thicker, almost as if it is alive. Twisting and writhing in agony within are human faces, each and everyone of them locked in eternal pain. 

“<>!”

The sword in his hand sliced towards Crist, accompanied by the mist in that split second. Like the ancient river of the afterlife, Styx, that flows in hell, the mist engulfed towards Crist, wanting to swallow him whole into its eternal embrace. 

“Angeline, permission to release the <>.” Crist spoke to Angeline through the transmitter, ignoring the mist completely. His body unconsciously moved to shield Alice from the mist, as his eyes became even darker. 

“Sigh…yes. Release <>.” 

“Finally…” Tattoos, coloured the darkest shade of green, spread out from the corners of his eyes, forming a crown of thorns encircling his head. A symbol of a bow with an arrow appeared in the middle of Crist forehead, as a cracking sound resounded through the empty warehouse. 

“<>.”

Cracks began appearing between the palm of his hands, as if something was breaking through his very skin. Blood began seeped through those cracks and condensed itself into the form of a bow entwined with streams of eternal green. Grasping the bow with his bleeding hands, he looked at Azrael in the eye.

As he pulled the bowstring back, a single eternal arrow of green blazed into existence. Burning with an hellish blaze, with Crist’s blood as fuel, shot forth, right at the mist. 

As the arrow left the bowstring, it split into ten identical arrows, firing from all directions, slicing into the mist one after another, cutting a dazzling path through the air. 

“Alice, get back.” Right after the arrow was fired, Crist shot forth right at Azrael, his fingers never stopping to fire even once. “<>,” he muttered under his breath, his arrows trailing throughout the warehouse like meteors falling from the sky. 

<> sliced through the air once, twice, thrice, four, five…tens, hundreds of times as each arrow cut through the mist aiming for Azrael. His pale expression never showed a trace of exertion as he moved his blade with unholy accuracy, cutting and intercepting the path of each arrow before it could even touch him. A continuos chain of expressions rang throughout the warehouse, tearing through the stony silence before. 

“Brother!” Alice’s voice cut through the explosions in worry as she saw Crist attacks being dealt with like it was nothing. It was the first time she ever saw someone deal with her brother’s attacks with such ease. In the past, not even an army of soldier could withstand one volley of bombardment, yet Azrael did it without getting injured. 

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“Tsk! <>!” When he fired his final arrow, he quickly let go of his bow as it collapsed and reformed itself into the form of a blood red dagger embedded with a condensed jew of green energy. Grasping it with his other hand, he suddenly disappeared into thin air, as the shadows cloaked him. 

Silence reign in the warehouse as only Azrael and Alice are left, yet Azrael did not move from his spot. His hands are clasped onto his blade as he looked into the shadows that descended in this dark warehouse. 

Minutes passed in complete silence. There was not movement, no sound, except for Alice’s movements. Lying along the edge of the warehouse, she leaned on the wall, trusting Crist to keep her safe. 

At that moment, a crackling sound was heard from one of the corners of the warehouse. “Crist! Crist! Are you fine? Hand in there fo—“ The transmitter was abruptly shut off in the middle, not before the entire area was sliced apart by Azrael’s blade. 

“Bzzz—“ The buzzing of the broken transmitter was heard in the corner of the room, sliced in two by Azrael blade. However, Crist was nowhere to be seen. 

A blade plunged inches deep into Azrael’s hand as it rose to shield his neck from a sudden strike. Stopped just before it pierced Azrael’s neck, the blade collapsed and reformed into a bow firing inches from Azrael’s face. 

At that exact moment, Azrael had already began to move. His blade, milliseconds after the arrow was fired, sliced from an unnatural angel towards Crist, which had now reappeared. Meanwhile, his other hand guarded his face, while the mist formed a barrier. 

Crist, on the other hand, had reformed <> moments after firing the shot, disappearing once more just as the blade sliced towards him. This time, he appeared underneath Azrael, his blade cutting at his tendons. 

However, Azrael did the unexpected. Allowing himself to fall backwards, he momentarily suspended himself in the air and avoided the attack. His blade, however, is now redirected downwards following his momentum, cutting at Crist below him. 

Crist intercepted the blow with his dagger, while he his foot rose up towards Azrael’s jaw. It slammed into his arm guarding his face just as the arrows hit. Sparks flew as the arrows connected with the barrier of mist, as Azrael’s hand was shifted slightly by the impact, allowing one lone arrow to pass through. 

Azrael, left with nothing to defend, grasped the arrow with his jaw as the was  pushed back along the ground by the resultant force of the arrow. Crashing into the side of the warehouse, he steadied himself as he spit out a mouthful of blood. 

“Ha..ha…very well, <>. You have earned the right for me to use it.” Tearing off the overcoat that covers him, his shoulders began to crack apart as two wings, made out of pure darkness, began emerging from his shoulder blade.  His pale expression became even paler, as his wings fully extent itself. His very visage becomes clouded in darkness, as the mist from before became even more dense. A sense of death, unlike before, surrounded Crist, as it became apparent that this is the true form Azrael, the Archangel of Death. 

Author's Notes: 

After disappearing for months, I have finally put out another chapter of this story. While, considering what an irresponsible author I am, I will probably be lazy and delay the next chapter. Opps! Now, feel free to post any errors or critique below and I will be glad to receive it.