Silver strikes of lights cut a path through the pearlescent clouds as Michael fly back toward his own dominion.
Wind rushed past, cool against his cheeks, yet inside his thoughts churned. The thoughts that was darker and hotter than any current he rode.
"Clyde was always a contingency," he admitted to himself, "He was like a blunt spear the Ancient One thrust into the board. I never cared for being soone else’s second move."
Below, shimring realms slid by like mirrored shards. No army he have could stand against every Archangel and Demon King combined if they attacked in together at once.
Even Clyde who were uniquely empowered as he was right now would drown beneath that tide.
"If I throw my lot in with him now, I expose everything...and we both die.Yet if I stand aside, the coalition would killed him, and the Ancient One’s influence will be broken."
A new, colder possibility glimred.
"But what if I let them bleed each other first? When Clyde is cornered with Morvius and the others grand force is attacking him then I will make my move. I will take what power remains for myself before anyone can claim it.That way, the Ancient One’s influence over the cosmos will keep expanding without major interruption."
The idea ignited a thrill he hadn’t felt since the early days when he received the power of the Ancient One.
Silver lightning rippled along his body as he banked, eyes narrowing on the distant glittering line of his palace.
"I must stay useful to the Ancient One until the final hour. I will go with the coalition to keep suspicion from and feed Clyde nothing that would reveal and let him beco the black sheep. When he have been removed, the Higher Beings suspicion wiill gone and their guard will be lowered and I can move again."
After that he alone might run the plan for the Ancient One for free.
"When the dust settles, the cosmos will think that they were free of that corruption...while I will wield it."
The Archangel’s wings beat once, harder than before, and he shot forward—already planning how many pawns he could afford to sacrifice.
The pearlescent haze parted as Michael’s wings folded in, letting him drop onto the marble summit of his citadel.
Below, tiered plazas spiraled outward crowded with angels in polished mail, their banners gleaming like caught sunlight.
He drew a deep breath and raised one hand. A ripple of golden sigils blossod around his throat. It was an amplification magic.
At once, every soldier in the domain could hear him as if he stood at their shoulder.
"my Angels," he began, voice clear and steady, "you’ve all heard the rumors. The anomaly, the one who’s attacking and killing the Celestials and torn holes through realms has finally been found."
A murmur rolled through the ranks; wings rustled, helms shifted.
"Morvius, the Director of the World Mater Bureau himself has brought us proof. Soon, the call will go out for every legion to move as one. When it cos, we will also march."
He paced the edge of the platform, letting his gaze sweep the gathered battalions.
"This will not be a skirmish on so forgotten border. This is the fight that settles the balance of every realms we defend! I want formations reviewed, supply lines tight, and every blade or spell ready. You have reach peak readiness soon. Then we stand by for deploynt orders."
Silence held for a heartbeat; then he let a faint smile soften his tone.
"I trust you because you’ve never failed . Hold fast, keep faith, and when the trumpet sounds we’ll show the anomaly what it ans to face Eden’s finest. Thats it from ."
The amplification spells dimd. Below, captains barked commands, units wheeled into motion, and the great terraces of his domain thrumd with renewed purpose.
Michael watched them scatter. His wings half-furled and his mask firmly in place.
"I just said all the right words," he thought, turning back toward the palace entrance. "And not one of them the truth that matters. I hope the other will receive news that I said it."
After that, Michael stepped through the tall doors of his palace.
His posture was relaxed now, wings folding neatly behind him as he walked the polished halls bathed in soft light.
The weight that had clouded his mind earlier—doubt, tension, and uncertainty—had lifted. It had been replaced by sothing else entirely.
Purpose.
Not the noble kind shared by his soldiers. This was personal. Quiet and cold.
"I was made for more than obedience," he thought with the faintest smile tugging at his lips. "Let them march for their justice. And after that, I’ll walk toward a new order."
A steward bowed low as he passed, but Michael barely noticed. His mind was already racing with calculations. The mask of his duty as a fellow higher beings was secured when he announced the order to his army. The next stage of the Ancient One’s plan will be his.
---
Far away, across fractured planes and burning winds, Clyde twisted as he cleaved through another sand monster.
The shriek of the creature was lost beneath the roar of his blade and the static-charged silence that followed it.
Then, just faintly, sothing brushed against the edge of his thoughts. Like a whisper. Graemory told him to et her soon.
And with it, a brief flicker of coordinates of the place they should et. A Ruin far off from their current position.
He paused for half a breath, ducking under the strike of a charging beast, then buried his blade in its chest in one swift upward motion. The creature crumbled into dust.
Clyde frowned.
"Graemory? Why not speak directly through the artifact? She always used the connection before..."
The thought lingered as he parried another blow. There was a subtle tension in his chest from the oddity in her ssage.
"Is the artifact link damaged?"
Still, the monsters kept coming, and Clyde’s mind refocused.
He exhaled through his nose.
"Whatever. She wants to et, I’ll et her. Doesn’t matter why."
He raised Dusksorrow again, and resud the slaughter.
---
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