Shoulders back, chest out, and keep your head up, V. Open yourself up to what the world has to offer.

His father’s words came to him at the perfect moment. He adjusted his posture, lifted his head, and swaggered toward St. James Catholic Church.

Walking past familiar buildings put a bittersweet taste in the back of his throat. New shops and restaurants replaced the old ones he once visited. Glancing at them was like looking at a Rorschach inkblot, vaguely recognizable but in form only.

“Mic check!” pierced V’s eardrums, stopping him in his tracks.

“Too loud,” V said, grimacing with his hands over his ears.

The following five seconds of silence caused V to fish Jake’s phone out of his left pocket. “Melek, you still there?”

“Sorry about that. How do I sound?”

“Better. I still need to get used to wearing earbuds. I was never much of a music guy.”

“After we kick La’el’s ass, I’ll share a few of my favorites with you. Now don’t forget, I need you to keep him talking.”

“Got it.”

V tucked his necklace under his shirt.

Maintaining his composure as he dug into his right pocket was a herculean effort, but he barreled through, pulling out Connor and Summer’s amethysts.

The stones’ once vibrant color had faded, and the thin slivers of gold turned a muddy brass. They were remnants of a time long past.

He closed his fist, clenching the pendants as he raised them up to his lips. “Wish me luck.”

Three enormous spires loomed overhead as he made his way toward the church’s entrance. After all these years, Catelyn’s sunken eyes and gap-toothed smile still appeared clear as day. Even though he no longer felt guilt over her passing, a flicker of sorrow surfaced as he recalled the demon parading around in her body.

La’el sat on the roof with his back turned, V’s stomach twisting at the sight.

He recited his father’s words one last time, fixing his posture so as to exude as much confidence as possible—chest out, head high.

“La’el!”

His uncle rose and presented a smirk. He spun around, then turned back to V with malice in his eyes.

“You asked for me, right? Well here I am!”

A thin vein popped out of La’el’s neck as he went into what appeared to be a passionate tirade. V wasn’t entirely sure, since his earbuds muffled most of the words, causing his fiery monologue to come out in spurts.

“…vile species…murderers and thieves…eradication…”

“You can’t!” V yelled, egging him on. Keeping La’el talking was significantly easier than expected. The once stoic and imposing Ensolian was a lot pricklier than he had remembered.

“Join me…demon army…wipe out—”

A flash of black and white sped toward La’el. Melek’s meaty fist sent him flying, crashing through the nearest spire. Gray stone particles polluted the air, and the cross sitting atop the spire came tumbling down, settling near Melek’s feet.

Blood and gravel sullied La’el’s all white attire. He lay there with a hand over his face, too embarrassed to stand.

Melek howled into the clear blue sky, rhythmically hopping from one foot to the other as he aimed his violet gaze at V.

V huffed in protest. “That was not a part of the plan.”

“I got tired of watching his lips flap, so I improvised a bit.”

Melek’s sheath holster protruded from his waist. “You could have at least used your hatchet,” V whined.

“No offense, but you have a very punchable face.”

“Take this seriously!”

“I am. You seriously have a punchable face.” He released a devious cackle.

What the fuck?

Such a drastic shift in personality gave V whiplash. Melek could have at least told him that accessing his powers came with the caveat of turning into an unhinged asshole.

Melek ripped his hatchet out of its holster, raising its gleaming silver edge high above his head. “Get ready,” he said, pointing at his ear with a free hand.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Just as V lifted a finger to start the music, Melek leapt off the roof, landing a good ten feet away from La’el. Either he purposefully did that to prepare for an attack, or his lack of depth perception reared its ugly head.

V shook it off and pressed play. He had set the app to shuffle, so “Revolution 1993”’s muddy synth opening took him for a ride, smoothly leading into a military style snare drum cadence.

Though he had only spent a day with this new method, he found that bobbing his head to the music’s melody facilitated entering his angel mode.

In came the bongos, followed by the blaring of trumpets. Once Jay Kay’s silky voice took center stage, bliss embraced him with open arms.

He took a deep breath. His lips curled into a faint smile as he sprinted toward La’el.

***

Play it cool, Melek thought.

If he was capable of shame while in this mode, he may have sulked over how horribly he missed his intended target.

What am I talking about? I totally did that on purpose.

Melek initiated a leaping downward strike, but La’el successfully rolled out of the way, causing his hatchet to bounce off the gravel.

La’el rose and casually patted the dirt from his clothes.

Just as he opened his mouth to speak, Victor appeared next to him with a raised fist, punching La’el with enough force to send him flying. His body skid across the pavement, eventually coming to a stop several feet away.

“Hell yeah!” Melek screamed.

“Please stop yelling. And don’t celebrate yet. Or did you forget about his accelerated healing?”

“Of course not.”

He did.

“Let’s go,” Victor said.

They raced toward their fallen enemy, but La’el shot up and scarcely avoided a devastating combined attack.

Fury gripped La’el. He stood before his pursuers wearing a scowl that would have sent most people scampering away.

Melek’s grin widened as he shifted on his feet, head banging to Ghostface Killah’s menacing lyrics.

In contrast, Victor maintained a rhythmic head bob, smoothly swaying with his fists up.

Kid’s a natural

Never before had Melek expected to fight alongside anyone, yet alone a giant in a cast. The scenario sounded like a fever dream.

***

Keeping a clear mind became increasingly more difficult as the fight continued. Letting memories come and go was easier while in a rested position, isolated from the outside world.

La’el was a constant reminder of what V had lost, and the nostalgic music in his ears compounded his predicament.

They had to end this soon.

While bathed in the sun’s reassuring warmth, the music’s pounding rhythm provided him with a surge of energy. He met Melek’s eyes. A head nod was all it took to trigger a combined charge toward La’el.

V reached him first, executing a feint with his injured left hand before launching a lightning fast low kick aimed at La’el’s calf.

The frustration of V’s narrow miss passed through him as Melek swung his hatchet in a wide arc, forcing La’el into a backpedal.

Without sharing a word, they launched into a synchronized attack. Melek’s ferocious hatchet swings worked in concert with V’s series of controlled kicks and right punches, creating the perfect synergy of disparate styles.

The problem was their inability to land a blow. La’el kept casually dodging, as if he knew each move beforehand.

While they released a flurry of varied attacks, something became glaringly apparent. La’el wasn’t using any particular fighting style. He relied on his heightened instincts alone.

And they couldn’t even touch him.

The gap between V and this full Ensolian widened with each missed punch and kick.

Dread seeped in, just enough to provide La’el with an opening. He easily dodged a right hook, raised his arm, then slapped V with the back of his hand—so hard his earbuds flew out.

He fell to the ground, blinded by pain, his cheek hot to the touch.

La’el proceeded to hit Melek with a brutal gut punch, incapacitating him. He then grabbed him by his jacket collar and flung him through one of the church windows, scattering the parking lot with multicolored shards of glass. The sound of his body crashing into a pew was a hatchet to V’s chest.

Though he no longer benefited from accelerated healing, V’s angel mode mitigated the brunt of the pain. In his current state, though, the throb of La’el’s slap was unimaginable, causing him to shriek at the top of his lungs.

La’el sauntered toward him, his clothes reduced to tattered rags. He crouched down, staring into V’s tear-filled eyes. “Now that we’re free from any potential interruptions, I’d like to offer you another chance to reconsider. Killing my only nephew would break my sensitive human heart.”

A kick to V’s torso sent him rolling across the pavement. Gravel pressed against his exposed skin as he tried to catch his breath.

“What is your answer?” La’el asked, towering over V’s aching body.

“The thought of joining you never even entered my mind.”

An unfortunate lie. At his lowest point—when his anguish devolved into a form of indifference toward everyone and everything—a fleeting consideration crossed his mind. While believing he had nothing to live for, a desire to project his emptiness onto others flickered like a dying bulb.

Reminiscing over the abundant number of positive memories with the ones whom he loved so dearly pulled him out of the depths.

La’el smirked. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“I don’t know. I did a pretty good job of making you think I actually heard the bullshit you were saying when I first got here.”

La’el frowned. The wrinkles on V’s former face became more prominent. “You think every soul I encountered in Hell was born evil? They tried to justify—”

Melek’s large black boots stepped through the destroyed window. Blood trickling down his face as he tightly gripped his hatchet with one hand, his left hand resting on his jacket. With a venomous scowl aimed at La’el, he dropped his left hand, revealing a clean tear, exposing his black t-shirt underneath.

La’el dropped his head while releasing a deep sigh. “Why must I always be interrupted?” He gave V another kick to his chest. “Stay put.”

***

Melek’s violet glare peeked through the blood covering most of his face. A throbbing pain radiated from the horizontal cut across his forehead.

He felt for the tear in his beloved jacket. Rage consumed him as he initiated a sprint toward La’el.

Just as he lifted his foot, La’el hit him with a ferocious side kick, launching him back into the church. He had moved so fast that Melek only caught a glimpse of his voluminous curly hair before flying backwards.

His head slammed against the marble floor, sending him into a daze while damaging his chip. The music kept skipping, so he gave his temple a double tap, stifling a scream as the weight of his injuries cascaded on him like an avalanche.

His hatchet sat a few feet away.

“You have the violet eyes of a demon slayer,” La’el said, approaching Melek with a relaxed gait. “So, which of your loved ones did my brother kill? A precious uncle? Or maybe a cherished sister?”

Melek swallowed a curse as his wounds throbbed. “What are you talking about?”

La’el faked a gasp. “Oh, you didn’t know? Quick question: when your dead loved one appeared in your dream, did they give you the ‘avenge me’ speech? I bet they did. You’d think my dear brother would have switched it up after all these centuries.”

“There’s no way you think I’m that gullible.”

“Believe what you want. Demon slayers are nothing more than tools to Lucius. You and that silly little hatchet of yours effectively serve the same purpose.”

A blinding golden light emanated from V’s general direction, grabbing hold of La’el’s attention.

Melek leapt toward his hatchet and threw it straight into La’el’s back.

***

V was almost certain that something broke. He couldn’t even pinpoint which bone in particular. The pain was so all-encompassing that it may as well have been all of them.

Incapacitated, he was forced to watch as La’el walked toward the church.

He reached into his right pocket, bringing those two faded amethysts to his lips. “I’m sorry.” He then held them up, mindlessly staring at the stones.

I give up.

His body went limp as he let go, releasing himself to whatever fate had in store.

Melek’s words in the hospital resurfaced. Maybe being loved and having a collection of incredible memories was good enough.

Gratitude…

With his eyes still on the pendants, he began his thanks:

Thank you, Dad.

Thank you, Summer.

Thank you, Connor.

Thank you, Mom.

Thanks for the good memories.

Thanks for the bad ones.

Thanks for all the love you gave a fuck up like me.

Losing himself in the blending of violet and gold, V repeatedly said thanks. With each utterance, a layer of pretense peeled away.

A warmth formed in his core, but he ignored it, choosing instead to continue his chant of gratitude:

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you…

What began as a twinkling flame in his gut became a raging fire, consuming him, bathing him in gold.

He clutched the amethysts as he rose. His body felt light, and a faint pulsing heat coated his skin.

Right as V locked eyes with his uncle through the broken window, La’el violently flinched, turning his body.

Now.

He sped toward La’el, the twin violet stones nestled in his fist as he appeared before him.

He got low just as La’el turned back around. V pushed off the ground, his body twisting and surging upward with a raised fist, cutting through the air with precision and power.

His uppercut connected with La’el’s chin. The amethysts shattered as he put everything into that one punch, sending his piece of shit uncle through the church roof.

Time slowed as V dropped to his knees and peered up at the gorgeous blue sky peeking through the hole he had created. He smiled warmly at the broken pendants resting atop his hand as he collapsed, losing consciousness.