Chapter Thirty-Five

Kashif cringed as he watched Zia aim her weapon right at the center of Elizabeth's forehead. "I still don't see how this could help our situation," the bodyguard told his boss—who sighed before turning back to him.

"This is harder than I thought," she mumbled as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

"You know—if you want to prove your theory—we'll have to see it in action," Aeron said as he took out his pistol and shot it into a nearby wall. After pulling the trigger a few more times, he reloaded the weapon and tossed it back to Zia. "This pistol works perfectly fine," he explained. "If you aren't comfortable using your own, take this one."

"No, it's okay, it's just… strange." Even though this was originally her idea, the act of purposefully killing themselves was a task that was easier said than done.

"Are you certain about this, Ms. Lombardi?" Elizabeth asked with her arms crossed. "How is killing one another going to accomplish anything?" Zia's proposition was a crazy one. She suggested that, since upon their death, their souls would be sent straight back to Heaven, they'd shoot each other and see what happens. "I mean," Elizabeth started as Zia prepared herself for another volley, "this is moronic." Aeron sighed as he scratched his temple—he couldn't agree more. This was a stupid idea, but it was their only option.

"No matter what you say, we have to do it. If it turns out that I can't seal the deal, grab my gun and let me go first," the ambassador announced in a firm tone as her arms started to shake. She might've been putting up a strong front, but she was genuinely struggling to gather her courage. Every time she raised her arms to shoot, her conscience would send them right back down.

"Mortals, I swear," Aeron thought with a yawn as he raised his pistol and shot Elizabeth. The bullet passed clean through her skull—causing a splatter of violet blood to cover the ground.

"Ow! Warn me before you do that! I can still feel pain!" the girl screamed as Aeron watched the wound he made rapidly begin to close. "Damn Angels," she cursed as Kashif chuckled. "Do you find something funny, jackass?" she asked her giggling partner.

"Huh, I can't remember the last time I saw Kashif laugh like that," Zia smiled as she watched Elizabeth draw her weapon and fire upon the chuckling man. Kashif fell over like a bag of bricks. However, he quickly recovered. He didn't say anything as he got back up, rubbed his healing injury, and sighed.

"Sorry to state the obvious, but this isn't working," Aeron said as Zia let out a frustrated yawn. They had been at this for two hours and had made zero progress. "Do you want to try, Ms. Lombardi?" the Cherub asked as he turned to the two bodyguards. "I think Elizabeth and Kashif have had quite enough, don't you think?"

"Ugh… yeah… you're right," she responded as she stared at the pair of warriors—who were both currently resting on a rotten log. Constantly healing like that must've drained their stamina. Their skin had turned pale and clammy, and they were both dripping with sweat. "Sorry, you two, I didn't think this would be so exhausting," she apologized as she cocked her weapon and handed it to Aeron. "Here, they're too tired to hold a gun."

"Are you sure about this? It's going to be painful." Zia smiled and nodded. She couldn't be a coward after Elizabeth and Kashif both willingly took a bullet. Once he was sure that the ambassador was ready, Aeron pulled the trigger. Like the two before her, Zia fell limp onto the ground like some cheap ragdoll.

"Yeah… that hurt," she groaned as she squeezed the sides of her forehead. Just like with her bodyguards, the wound had already begun to heal. "Why is this happening?" she mumbled, clearly annoyed, as she turned to Aeron. "I thought you told us that deadly injuries would send us straight back to Heaven. So why are we reviving?" Aeron shrugged. He had absolutely no idea. Even though souls healed faster from injuries than most mortals, surviving a mortal wound like a headshot was unheard of.

"I guess that it has something to do with the Scale." Aeron shrugged. That was a shot in the dark. He had no idea what the source of their unbelievable durability was. "If we had known we could survive injuries like this, we wouldn't have had to fight so hard earlier," Zia groaned and closed her eyes as she tried to think of a possible answer. However—no matter what she tried—she kept pulling blanks.

"Aeron," she started as she helped Elizabeth and Kashif up off the ground. "Technically, this should be working, right?" The Cherub nodded. Zia's idea should've been foolproof. If a pure soul died in some other realm—say Hell, for example—they would end up back in Heaven. In his line of work, that was common knowledge. "Do you think your weapon might be able to do anything? You're the Templar, after all." Aeron pondered for a moment before taking out his gavel; it was worth a try.

"With how unstable this world is, I'd like to avoid using my powers for as long as possible. Please keep that in mind," he said as he casually waved the device through the air. "Now then," he announced, "who wants to die?" After a few seconds of awkward silence, Elizabeth raised her hand.

"Just make it quick." Immediately, Aeron smiled and snapped his fingers. Suddenly, a gigantic torrent of flames appeared at the girl's feet. The fire crawled up her legs and along the ground like a pile of venomous snakes, burning everything in its path. Well… everything except the one person he wanted to burn.

"What the hell?" he cursed as the smoke cleared. For a second, he thought he was hallucinating. Elizabeth was standing there without a scratch on her! Not even her shoes were even the tiniest bit charred.

"Chief, I think you missed," the girl scolded as she let out a sigh of relief. Without saying a word, Aeron let loose another attack. This time he was aiming for a large tree in the distance. As expected, a similar torrent of flame exploded out of the ground. Within moments the tree and the grass surrounding it had been reduced to ashes. He then turned his focus to a nearby hill—which was about as large as a small castle—and demolished it as well.

"Thank God," he thought as he twirled his gavel around in his hand. "For a second there, I thought I was getting rusty." With that over and done with, the judge holstered his weapon and scratched his chin. "I'm certain that I hit Elizabeth. So why is she still here?"

"Hey, Angel!" Elizabeth spoke up as she dusted some soot off her clothes. "Are you going to tell us what's happening, or are you just going to stand there mumbling like a weirdo?" Aeron rolled his eyes as he pulled his gavel's trigger again—instantly lighting Elizabeth on fire. Just like before, the flames rolled harmlessly off her body like a dense fog.

"You're like a ghost," Aeron told her as he rubbed his aching head. To say that the girl was confused would be a significant understatement.

"Um… yeah… I mean, technically, I don't even have a physical body." Aeron wasn't sure how much more of Elizabeth's sass he could take. "Try something different! Flames aren't working!" she cried out as he summoned forth a maelstrom of frost and ice. The veritable tornado of snow rapidly approached the bodyguard—gaining strength along the way before finally disappearing.

"Damn," Aeron cursed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "I can't hit you." The way Elizabeth scoffed when she heard that made his blood boil.

"If that thing on your waist can't even do something as simple as this, you might as well get rid of it." All he had to do was kill her. Such a simple task should've been as easy as breathing for a judge of his caliber. In response, Aeron turned his gavel towards the ground and tried again. Instantly, the sandy dirt beneath their feet started to bubble and melt. With a flick of his wrist, it stopped—freezing so fast that the ground cracked open.

"My powers are working just fine," he exclaimed as he looked up as if he were searching for a solution in the clouds. "The problem is, they aren't working on you." He could burn the sediment right up to Elizabeth's toes, but the second they so much as grazed her body, everything vanished. After a few tests with Zia and Kashif, Aeron discovered that this strange anomaly wasn't confined to just Zia's favorite bodyguard.

"This phenomenon must be because of the Scale. I can't think of any other reason," Zia said as she frustratingly kicked some dust into the air. Their apparent invulnerability could've been caused by something else—maybe a change in Heaven's regulations or some unknown blessing. However, none of those things should've mattered when Aeron was involved. He was a judge. A being who was just a few steps away from being a demigod. If he couldn't kill them, that meant something was interfering with his abilities. A force that had to be just as powerful as him, if not more.

"The Scale is just a tool. Unless somebody is putting it to use, it's nothing more than a fancy paperweight," the Cherub thought as he tapped his foot against the rock. Even if somebody figured out how to wield the artifact, they wouldn't waste their time using it on people like them.

"You know, there is one path still available to us," Elizabeth added as she flipped through her notebook. "Aeron, we haven't tried to kill you yet." Zia couldn't help but scoff when she heard that.

"I doubt the Minister would be happy if he ever found out that a ragtag group of mortals attempted to murder one of his kin," she commented while fidgeting with her weapon. "But—considering our dwindling options—I think that's a risk we're going to have to take."

"Suicide," Aeron thought as he slowly processed her suggestion. "Sorry, but that won't work." Undergoing an act like that as an Angel was… complicated.

"Why? Are you getting cold feet?" Elizabeth asked—clearly confused. However, before he could speak up, Zia stopped him.

"Elizabeth, if Aeron says he can't do it, then that's that." Now it was his turn to be confused. Zia was the first one he expected to start asking questions. "We all have our secrets. There's no need for us to go digging up the skeletons in your closet." Aeron chuckled as he patted some stray dust off his pants.

"There's no need for that," he stated as he pulled out his gavel and returned the area to its normal state. "Suicide comes with quite a few drawbacks for my kind. So, if possible, I'd like to avoid it." When Elizabeth asked for details, he walked over to the bodyguard and took a seat on a nearby rock. He yawned as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette. God knows he'd need it. "Why don't you all get comfortable?" he asked. "I might as well explain it to them while I've got the chance," he thought as he blew out a cloud of smoke. "This is going to take a while."

Fifteen hours ago...

There's something oddly satisfying about me sitting here writing by an open window. Even though the view isn't that desirable, the ideas it brings are incredible. For example—just a few minutes ago—I had the distinct pleasure of watching some soldiers parade past my room. A couple of them were excited about the war, but several were terrified. And I don't blame them for being scared; that's the logical response. They leave behind their wives, children, friends, and family, all for a cause some of them might not even believe in. The poor fools didn't even get a standing ovation as they marched by. They left in the middle of the night, disappearing into the city streets like the usual rabble. I wonder how many of these men will return once all of this is over. If I were behind the wheel of this war's fate, half of them wouldn't leave the battlefield.

As mortals so often say, it is usually when people are on death's door that they finally show their true colors. For obvious reasons, soldiers are the primary example of this fact. That said—while watching this overly familiar sight—I discovered that humanity has changed in my absence. It's not much, just a twitch of the cheek here or a slight frown there, but these men were acting… well… more like people. In the past, most large civilizations I came across had armies consisting of warriors trained since youth. It wasn't like today, where just any old bastard could find himself drafted. This sudden burst of emotion and fear in these young men spurred a curiosity in me that I thought had long been extinguished. Maybe it's because I've been spending so much time lately with mortals, but I'm starting to find them more tolerable. Granted, Zia and her entourage do have their rough spots, but I feel like—if they're given room to grow—all of them could become great.