From the Age of the Eternals, Cycle 304,598,727,136
The roar of battle consumed the plain as the two armies clashed. Arcane energies and living metal met in a glorious explosion of destruction. The angels flew on wings of ephemeral light, their photon blades slaying the foul machines by the thousands. But every metal soldier that fell merely reformed, the living metal that comprised their shells pulling them back together and repairing all damage almost instantly. The psychic battlesong of the angelic host flowed over the battlefield, the song summoning the divine energies that shaped the universe in its infancy to their aid. Part choir, part army, the legions of light began to push back the endless army of hollow warriors through holy might, and it seemed the battle might end as soon as it had begun.
That was until a terrible roar was heard from the front lines, and four constructs, the largest of the unholy abominations, charged forward on mechanical steeds that glowed with the power of their dark energy reactors. The one leading them bore a great scythe and moved in large sweeping motions as he plowed through the armies of Heaven. His brethren too, bore arms of their own. One wielded a great sword that resonated with the energies of entropy, another carried a great whip made of that same foul power, and the last of them wielded a great canon that replaced the lower portion of one of his arms.
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The blasphemous quartet sliced through the ranks of their enemy with deadly efficiency, the entropic energies they wielded wounding and corrupting the ethereal bodies of the ascended host. Their troops followed in behind, battling to push the rift deeper into enemy territory. Up ahead of them, the four horsemen broke through the back of the enemy lines and began charging towards the mountains, where the golden city shined like a beacon of divine light. The dark clouds that obscured the sky suddenly began to shift and move. In a brilliant flash, a beam of light shot through the cloud cover, the nebulous blobs of darkness shrank back as if they had burned, and the beam impacted the cursed ground with an explosion of white brilliance.
When it faded, a single giant figure stood in its place, radiating light and holy power. His eyes were as lapis lazuli, and his form was that of the others in the angelic host, but the armor he wore was pure white with inlaid gold trimmings. Each of his pauldrons decorated with the face of a roaring lion carved out of gold, but the craftsmanship was too perfect to have been the product of mortal hands. On his chestplate was the symbol of their power, the cross reaching from his neck down to his waist, and from one side of his body to the other. He shone like a star, and the once-dark battlefield was illuminated by his light.
Driven by the vestiges of hatred that possessed them, the four horsemen continued their charge towards the city and its new defender, their slitted eyes glowing a sinister green and their weapons crackling with the energies of uncreation. The golden giant’s psychic voice soon joined the battlechoir’s chorus, and a refrain of triumph, hope, and glory resonated over the battlefield, as the Archangel took up his sword and flew towards the enemy, praises to the Creator on his immaterial lips.