An angel

The children weren't in the village today, as they were playing in the forest.

In the end, they were fortunate enough to not die along with their fellow villagers.

The witch analyzed the group of girls who had just exited the dark forest. They screamed, yelled, shrieked, and a variety of other words that is the synonym of the first three. There were many things they did say, other than speaking jumbled, incomprehensible random gibberish, but she did not care.

For these children were the ones who bullied Abilene.

They called her names, throwing mud and rocks. They tortured her, mess with her, and a variety of things that a bully does.

So, they are due a long-awaited punishment.

No, not a punishment.

A gift.

It would be a blessing to let them join their families and fellow villagers.

So, the witch looked at them, and as they settled down their obnoxious screams and cries, she began walking toward them.

Slowly.

Step by step, she moved towards them.

Each step made a squishing sound as she pressed her feet one after another against the drenched grass and earth.

It did not need to be said for what the grass and dirt were drenched in.

As the gray-haired witch approached them, the children, along with the snobbish girl at the front, moved back. Every step the witch took, they took a step back.

Boom!

Thunder and lightning sounded in the dark clouds above, and the world around them became darker. With another step the witch took, the world beckoned her call, acknowledging her presence. The winds raged more furiously, the cold became colder, and the world more gray than it possibly can.

Perhaps they were close to the surface, and so the sound vibrated through the earth and into their ears? Perhaps it was some strange magic that made it this way.

No one cared, for the children 's eyes looked at what was in front of them; they saw the sight of the witch slowly blended in with the darkness. All that stood out was the staff in the witch's hands, an amalgamation of a spear and an axe, began glowing an ominous blue glow.

The witch approached them.

"Eeek!"

"Stay-stay away!"

The children took a couple of steps back, but they stopped. The snobbish girl looked behind her in a frightened, panicked way.

"W-what are you guys doing-what!?"

The rest of the children at the front looked back, and they felt powerless.

The group of children at the back stopped not because they could stop, but they simply 𝘩𝘢𝘥 to stop.

Behind them, the group of children found themselves blocked by a muddy black wall. In the bleak world, blue bits in the mud wall glowed ominously.

"It-it's magic! Black magic! She's a w-witch!"

As the words took hold inside their naive heads, a couple of the children fell onto the ground, landing on their knees.

The gray-haired woman raised the black mud wall from the ground silently, even before they had the thought to escape.

"I'm sorry!"

Please, spare me!"

Then, all of a sudden, one of the children pushed the snobbish girl in front of her, as she stumbled, she looked behind her at the child who pushed her.

"Sh-she's the one! It-it's Lavini! She's the one who took us to bully that girl!" said the child.

The snobbish girl named Lavini trembled as she raised her finger, pointing it at the child.

"Barbra!? You-!"

"Yeah, it was her! She was the one who told us to bully her!"

"Y-you-!"

Lavini looked at the other child who accused her. As she was gaping her mouth, the other children also joined in as well.

"That's right, it was her fault! She's the one who needed to be punished."

"Yo-you guys...!"

The snobbish girl was clearly confused, because she cannot mutter a coherent sentence as she looked around at the group of children. Her mouth kept gaping like a breathless fish, and as the children kept pushing her forward, she felt...

Scared.

Scared and confused.

But no one cared, as she looked at the group of children, their accusations akin to arrows piercing her, they all turned silent. Their eyes-filled with fright and fear-looked at her.

'Not, not at me,' Lavini thought.

𝘈𝘣𝘰𝘷𝘦 her.

She looked, and she saw the witch standing over her. Her veil, already gray, was shadowed by the gray world. As if it was the world that shadowed her face, not the veil.

Then, Lavini felt cold.

And the cold is what she only knew.

Now and forever.

...

Behind her veil, the witch slowly made a smile.

A small smile, but it was cold and depraved.

Very depraved. So very depraved.

With her eyes, she saw that as the children were arguing, black smoke began exuding from bodies. The children didn't seem to notice it, and the witch ignored it.

For there was a clown fiesta occurring right in front of her.

The sight of them pushing one another down; their desire to live like bugs; their desire to live...it made something in her head hurt.

Their actions brought up some very, very bad memories.

From her own life or 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴, the witch could no longer tell.

What she does know, however, is that she absolutely was disgusted by this act.

Then, something inside the witch began to burn again. A dark feeling, born from...

'Hmm? What was the feeling?'

The witch doesn't know. And she doesn't care.

So, she reached out her hand towards them and it suddenly was lit aflame with a mix of blue and black.

Ignoring the trembling girl right in front of her, she moved past them, and walked towards the other children.

The group of children trembled even more. Even as they tried to back away, the furthest back felt their backs touch a cold wall.

No matter how much they scraped the wall, bang it, and cry, the wall stood silently.

Silent and cold.

The veiled witch grew closer and closer and grabbed one of the children's necks. It was a girl similar to Abilene's age.

The girl who first pushed the snobbish girl.

This girl had the misfortune and idiocy to be at the front of the group and freeze in fright as the witch slowly approached her.

The gray-haired witch's hand began to exude a malicious aura, and she watched as the girl quietly cried as she shriveled up.

After all that was down, she dropped the body down, and it fell like a ragdoll.

Only the bones and skin remained.

Then, she reached out to the next child.

And the next.

And the next.

And the next.

Until all but one remained.

…

===============================

Race: Human (???) 98% => Human (???) 99%

===============================

...

As the second to last child fell onto the ground like a marionette's string being cut, the witch looked at her right hand.

Now, the dark feeling disappeared, for she no longer felt anything. It no longer tormented her; no longer grabbing her heart; no longer chaining her.

She was free.

'No,' the witch thought.

She wasn't free. Not yet, for she did feel something.

It was the feeling of disgust that remained. The feeling was so mute, so small, that it was inconceivable.

There was also another feeling, but the witch didn't care.

That feeling was also just short of disappearing. Like a dim dying light, it flickered on and off, barely distinguishable.

Just one more push, and she can be free from the chains.

From the feeling badgering her, asking her, gripping her heart.

Just one more step and she would never feel it ever again.

No more disgust. No more feelings of distress.

Just an empty, clear body and mind.

So, the gray-haired witch turned to look at the last child. The snobbish girl, who was the first to torment Abilene many days ago, was kneeling on the ground.

The most aggressive one of them all.

The witch doesn't know her name.

What was it that one girl said? Was it Lavinia, or Lavini?

She doesn't know. She doesn't care.

The catalyst of her freedom waited for her. As the witch walked to her, the girl didn't move at all. Like a lamb waiting to be sacrificed, she seemed to wait for her.

Finally, the gray-haired witch stood tall over her. She raised her hand, and reached out towards her. As she did so, she heard a tiny whisper.

"Anna..." whispered a voice.

It was the same voice from earlier. The witch looked around, and she saw nothing. So, she simply looked down at the girl again.

The girl remained still.

Her eyes, dead.

Her ears, closed.

Her body, cold.

The snobbish girl, once filled with fire, was now a flickering ember. She does not see, she does not hear, and she does not feel.

The witch reached out with her head once more. As she did so, she heard a whisper. This time, it wasn't the same voice from before, but from below her.

"I'm sorry...I'm sorry...I'm sorry..." the once snobbish girl muttered. She whispered over and over, like a broken record.

"I'm sorry...I'm sorry..."

The witch didn't care. Punishment awaits the girl. Freedom awaits the witch. So, she reached her hand out to her.

"Anna..."

Once again, the whisper came, but the gray-haired witch ignored it.

The witch continued reaching out to her with her hand, and the girl's dead eyes didn't look at her. No, she looked at the body of a girl at the very top of the hill.

Even now, the body looked to be sleeping peacefully.

As the witch barely touched the girl, she whispered-

"I'm sorry...Abilene..."

"Anna," said a voice, clear and simple. It was so clear, it was as if the voiced had whispered next to the witch's ear.

And then there was light.

...

With a gust of wind, the witch leaped far back as something warm 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘥 her. No matter where she looked, no matter how much she wanted to hide it, all she felt was warmth.

It was so foreign; alien, and it felt uncomfortable.

It didn't just grace her alone, no. The warmth seeks to grace everything around the witch. From the darkest shadows in the corner, to the coldest, blood-ridden corpse.

Everything the witch saw, they were graced with its warmth.

Graced with its light; and it was just the beginning.

The girl, who was dead inside, looked up, and her eyes were graced with this light.

"...an angel," she whispered.

'Impossible,' the witch thought as she looked at the light. With her eyes and 𝘨𝘪𝘧𝘵, she can see passed the light.

So she looked into the light, and saw the one who stopped her vengeance...

It was-

"Wh#t is h# doing, letting his own beloved g##nd##ugh##r fall into this state? He's just as stubborn as yo# are, you know that A#na?"

The witch's head tilted.

Even now, the light was undaunted, and now it truly descended upon the dark world. The world, dim and lifeless, opened its cloudy skies, and it welcomed the warmest of light.

For the light gave them warmth; for it is a divine visage; a holy grace.

It graced all with its presence as it descended with its holy visage; it is unfeasible to describe it. Mortal, ordinary eyes are blinded by it, for they cannot comprehend such a sight.

Even the witch couldn't fully comprehend it.

For even if she has the 𝘨𝘪𝘧𝘵 and her eyes, she couldn't truly understand it.

…

The witch's first thought was-

'Impossible.'

For sure, it is impossible for an angel to be here. If they were, then that means the Lord-

A ringing pain emerged in her head and ears, and she pressed her head against her forehead.

As quickly as it came, it disappeared, and the witch looked back at the light again.

'Examining...comprehending...'

The 'angel' who descended from within the light looked to be humanoid.

If this being really was an angel, then it is a humanoid angel.

It does not have three pair of wings, two pairs to cover the head and feet, so it is not a seraphim.

So it is not a burning serpent.

It is not a cherubim, for it does not have four wings, nor does it have four different faces; an ox, eagle, lion, and human.

In fact, it does not have any wings.

It is obvious that it is not an ophanim, for there are no rings covered with many eyes, so it is not one of the Thrones.

The witch made an educated guess of it not being an 'angel,' for the fiery flames that all angels are created with does not burn within it.

In her memories, she had first seen an angel, and its flames burn bright within it.

All angels are the ministers of flame, and by default have fiery flames burning within them, representing the Lord's love.

The brighter the flame, the higher the rank and more powerful the angel is.

At least that's what she believed, after she fully simplified the mysteries, for her eyes cannot fully discern it. For her mind cannot understand it.

'So what is this being?' the witch thought.

Blonde, golden hair flowed down its head, like a river gushing in the spring. Wearing a white heavy robe, its figure was barely outlined.

The witch simply chose the most logical guess that this stranger was a female.

Or a really, really feminine-looking male.

Other than that, there was a problem.

What stunted her, was that she couldn't pass the veil covering its face. Although it was similar to her veil, it was completely white.

It was the purest, glowing white the witch had ever seen. It even seemed to radiate a holy feeling. Although it was bright enough to blind almost everyone, the witch's eyes were fine.

No, it wasn't fine. She cannot see anything else. She cannot comprehend it.

A feeling tickled inside her chest.

The witch cannot see this 'angel's' face. Just like a veil, it seemed to shroud its entire body other than what is seen.

That was the only educated guess she can make.

But if it is an angel, even if it is of the Ninth Choir, it is still at the very least a rank seven being. In this world, where the mana quality and quantity is high, then it could release all of its strength, just like herself and that incompetent Apostle with the fedora-top hat thing named Favian.

She cannot confirm it. She cannot truly guess it.

Something twinge inside of her again.

What was the feeling?

The witch denied she was feeling anything at all, even as she looked up at the descending 'angel.'

"What is the servant of the Lord God Almighty descending here? No rules have been broken, nor has there been a sin great enough to beckon an angel here," the witch said with no emotion.

The being in the light didn't speak. The witch had the time to wait as well. The girl kneeling down didn't seem to care about the corpses near her feet, for she looked up at the light with a glimmer of hope.

Time seemed to stop, and as the gray-haired witch kept waiting, she finally heard a voice.

"I am not an angel."

A female voice. Not androgynous, like some thought angels to be genderless. Angels cannot lie, and so this being can be taken at word value for now.

A mere observation. No conclusion determined as of yet.

So the witch waited, and once again, the being in the light spoke.

"You fool...what are you doing? Just remaining as still as a rock. Do you think you'll help Anna this way?

"...what?"

'Who was she talking to?' the witch thought.

The being in the light spoke again.

"Is that how you love her? Oh you poor, poor fool."

This being sounded as heartbroken as someone who really cared for her. But the witch didn't know who this woman was.

The witch didn't know how the being knew her name.

But, for some reason, something began brewing in her chest.

As the feeling grew more and more, mana slowly began being sucked into her. Mortal eyes cannot possibly see the smallest of particles, and the woman in light did not seem to care.

As the witch continued doing what she is doing, the being said-

"If you really care for your grand-"

Then, the dim, blue butterfly on the gray-haired witch's ponytail, almost mistakable for it to be a simple accessory, fluttered its stilled wings after a long silence.

The world around them bloomed a blue glow.