Death is Left-Handed

"Where are you, Raphael?" Michael began marching towards the piles of dead bodies. "If you've truly died, I can finally strip the Watch of Talitem off of you. And with that, I can put it to better use, such as another super soldier to work under me…" He batted an eye at Azrael, who began engaging his wings in a sharp glide towards Reed. "Yes, if I can have a pair of unkillable subordinates, I can probably take over this world alone..."

Michael grunted under his breath, "Ariel, Jophiel, Raphael, and even Chamuel… You've all been deceived by your useless experiments. You all decide to import these 'irregular' individuals and look what's happened, hundreds of my units GONE!" He stomped the floor under his heavy boot. "Tsk! We don't need these useless children! They're all irresponsible and reckless! We could easily take over the world with just us seven, and the Angel Unit Infantry alone!"

Michael fumed out his stress at the situation, followed by a regulation of breaths. "Regardless, that will end now." He scanned the area for a Raphael's body. "Soon, I'll lead A.X.A. alone…"

Just a few meters away, Matthew remained silent, but listened. "Watch of Talitem? Is he referring to Raphael's watch?" Matthew recalled Raphael's fight with Reed from earlier. He realized that the Overseer was useless and defenseless after having his bronze watch stripped off of him. "Is that watch special?... And powerful?..." Matthew wondered. To his right, a fight had re-matched and ensued.

"Guh!" Reed threw a heavy kick, missing as it flew over Azrael's head. "Fuck—!"

Azrael slammed Reed's body at an angle, blasting him into the air.

Soaring through the air, he then crashed heavily into the ground. But recalling previous events, he quickly recovered, jumping out of the crater he'd created in the floor. In the rapid instance, Azrael crashed into the crater in front of him.

"Close one," he wiped bloody sweat off his forehead.

Dusty clouds began to emit from within the crater, followed by Azrael who suddenly blasted upwards. He'd used the propellers at the bottom of his soles to engage the height.

"The first person to live an irreversible death." His eyes struck Reed's; "And the first person to die twice to the hands of Death!" He fell downwards, soaring directly towards Reed and his head.

The brief moment before Azrael's hand struck Reed's face, he swerved.

"—!?" Azrael's hand unexpectedly came into zero contact. Simultaneously, Reed followed through with his own. "TAKE THIS!!!"

Azrael was struck in the face with brutal force, propelling him through the bodied heaps that cushioned his impact. Blood gushed tremendously with the collision, but none of it was his.

"Angels…" He wiped it off his sleeves. It was just the blood of dead bodies.

Azrael swayed unexpectedly, but quickly regathered himself. He found himself to be surprisingly hazy.

On the other side, Reed held his fist. It was red and bruised. "Quite the land, huh?" He smirked at Azrael.

Azrael simply stared back, unresponsive of emotion. The look irritated Reed, as he found disgust in the thought of his opponent holding back emotions.

"Let it out," Reed said.

Azrael didn't reply.

"I know you're mad that I landed a hit. Let out your anger."

Once again, Azrael didn't reply. To Azrael, the concept of emotion was void. There was no such thing. He'd lost the feeling long ago after witnessing the many kinds provoked by his victims when on the verge of death. He was, after all, the Angel of Death. He was bound by darkness, and in such a gloomy world, were no exceptions for sensation.

Assuming this, Reed felt provoked himself. Rage rushed through his veins, bringing about a state of anger. Anger for realization at the situation he understood he could not escape, and anger at the fact that he couldn't burst Azrael's emotional fort. To him, it was quite offensive, as Reed was a person driven by emotion alone. Unknown to him, it was purely the presence of his never-ending emotion that kept him alive until now, truly defining its significance. On the other hand, Azrael was an individual who could only be described as a shell. But there was something in that concept that Reed could relate to.

In his current state, Reed could also very well be described as a shell, but simultaneously, the essence that fulfills a shell. His body was a mere vessel that his own personal soul embodied.

"Tsk!" Wrath was stated.

"EVERYONE HERE AT A.X.A. WILL PAY FOR WHAT THEY'VE DONE TO ME!!!"

Reed took off after Azrael, who noticed the growing soul of anger. Opening his palm, a tiny capsule within his gauntlet expanded horizontally, providing a hand-held beam. He grabbed it mid-air, from which an arched blade soared out from the top.

The Scythe of Absolution and Reed had reconvened.

Azrael swung its blade across the axis from which Reed's neck would conclude. But Reed jumped before reaching this designated spot, over the slash and towards Azrael's face.

"Wh—" His face was kicked in by Reed. The brutal pressure of Reed's foot launching Azrael backwards, instigating a somersault into the ground.

"I've died to you once, and I've learned." Reed gritted his teeth. His voice omitted a growl, "I won't die to your hands again."

Further away, Azrael quickly rebalanced himself. He momentarily felt himself daze, but quickly regained his composure and gripped his Scythe tightly.

"Once my hands bear intent, the decision is final. Your fate is already written in stone. You'll inevitably die to Death whether you desire it or not!"

Azrael leapt across the pile of rubble he'd created, boosting himself against Reed's body. Grabbing the boy's waist, he drove Reed into the ground. In the opportunity, Azrael would subdue Reed's movement, giving him a clear strike at the neck.

Azrael swung his Scythe, ready to exact an absolute death, but Reed caught his wrist by the second.

"No—!" He yelled. Using his unparalleled strength, Reed crushed Azrael's wrist, completely disabling it of any functionality. He then instantaneously pulled himself out from under Azrael, ensuring he wouldn't be seized under the weight of the Scythe once more.

Recovering himself a distance away, he looked back at Azrael who stood wielding the Scythe in his left hand. His right hand's wrist was now broken.

"Too bad your dominant hand's now unfunctional," Reed put on a grin.

"You're mistaken," Azrael clenched the Scythe's beam. "Death is left-handed."

In an instantaneous burst, Azrael was suddenly face-to-face with Reed.

"Wh—!"

Reed's jaw was knocked up, reaching the limits that his neck could stretch. At the same time, blood from both his mouth and nose spurted upwards, resulting in a rain of blood from above. Before Reed could regather himself, he was blasted aside, tumbling against the floor violently.

With each thump, Reed regathered speed, noticing that Azrael continued to follow-up with strike after strike. The scene was an accelerating demolition.

Confident that the damage was enough to weaken Reed, Azrael planted him back down against the floor. He swung his Scythe up, ready to finish the task issued by Overseer Michael.

"I'M NOT FALLING FOR THIS SHIT AGAIN!" Reed's chest suddenly burst outwards. It launched Azrael off his body. In the moment, Reed's physical strength radiated with energy, surpassing any limits that once held him back.

"GET OUT OF MY WAY!" Reed's scream echoed throughout the Garden. "I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOUR A.X.A. BULLSHIT! RAPHAEL'S ALREADY DEAD, AND THAT SHOULD SAY ENOUGH ABOUT MESSING WITH ME!"

Reed stepped forward, primed to throw his most destructive punch yet. Azrael had only just begun to stand up, when turning around reunited his face with Reed's fist.

Slam!

Azrael's face was pummeled inwards so deeply it'd been indented. With this, his head cocked back, followed by his body that flung in the direction struck. His body soared as trails of blood followed along. The entire motion concluded with a massive gust of air that expanded in Reed's face; a late chemical reaction to Reed's instantaneous attack.

Thump!

Azrael's body jammed into the wall, as the lower rest of his body hung out.

He remained still.

Noticing the absence in movement, Reed walked over. "You slashed up my old body, so it's only fair I do the same…"

Reed went over to the dropped Scythe of Absolution, instigating the idea in mind;

"Use this to permanently slice Azrael's limbs."

With the thought, the concept of avoiding an inevitable death was suddenly inches away. Reed took a deep breath, cooling down the rage that heated his body. He bent down to reach for the handle, ready to grab it with all his might.

He began to pull, and pull, and pull, tugging with every single ounce of strength he could produce. But the weapon would barely budge. Reed exerted such an excessive amount of strength, the muscles within his forearms began to rip, unwinding as his body gave in to the weight of the Scythe.

"URRRRRGHHHH!!!" His rage began to grow. Reed continued to pull, attempting even the slightest chance at lifting the weapon. Words aforementioned echoed through his head; "Only Death himself can bear the weight of those he's killed. You're nowhere near enough." The telling was followed by a recollection of his previous weak attempt at lifting the Scythe off his body.

Reed tried to understand, "That must mean… only someone with a similar kill count to him could wield this weapon…" He looked at Azrael. The man was still in the wall; his body unresponsive. The fact he had not yet moved was an unusual sight to Reed. But it gave him a chance to have a try at the Scythe of Absolution, from which its weight was so heavy that he'd torn every muscle exerted to carry it. But within a matter of seconds, every tear healed, and Reed continued to try. The last time he'd tried, the weapon wouldn't even come close to budging. But now, Reed noticed himself begin to lift the Scythe.

"AGHHHHH!!!" He tugged with tremendous strength.

"—!!!" The Scythe was lifted a mere millimeter off the floor.

But in the instant, the weight overtook his momentary strength, and the Scythe dropped back to the ground. Upon impact, an exceedingly loud noise rung from its contact with the ground.

Reed gasped for air, exhausted at the attempted task. "That thing is impossible to carry…" But in his mind, he began to think otherwise; "I wasn't able to lift that thing at all before. But now I lifted it... even just a tiny bit." And with the comprehension, were the memories of each limb he tore, each head he smashed, and each neck he snapped, of each Angel he killed.

"I see…" Reed came to the conclusion that due to the extra hundreds of bodies added to his kill count as of very recently, he was able to gain the slight millimeter.

"So body count is proportional to my affinity to carry huh…"

Reed decided he'd leave the Scythe alone, knowing it was all for naught to even try carrying it anymore. At this point, Reed now understood truly just how many have died to the hands of Death, who currently laid before him—an unexpecting sight.

"It can't be helped." Reed turned around. "If you can't stop me now, then I'll make my way out of here."

Reed eyed the one-way entrance to the garden, from which no more Angels flew through. But one threat remained in the way.

"If I can wipe your memories like every other Angel here, you'd make a powerful soldier."

It was Overseer Michael, and in his hand he weld a great white broadsword.

"But first, I'll end your rampage here."