Chapter 25

The dim glow of the laboratory illuminated my work, casting long shadows across the stone walls. I stood at a large obsidian table, meticulously flipping through a thick notebook filled with intricate sketches and notes. The remains of the Seven Archangels were laid out before me—bodies broken, wings torn, and celestial armor dulled. Alongside them, about a hundred normal angels lay stacked in a neat row of ten bodies across and ten bodies up. I stood over one of the tables looking through some scattered blueprints trying to find one that would work.

The sound of the heavy oak door creaking open pulled me from my thoughts. I didn't have to look to know who it was—only one person would walk into my lab without an invitation. A soft yawn reached my ears as a pair of warm arms slipped around my waist.

"Burning the midnight oil again, my love?" Hecate murmured, her voice still tinged with sleep. Burning the midnight oil, that is what Hecate loved to say when one of us was really focused on a project. I found it cute even if I didn't understand how it made sense. Been dating this woman for a couple months and she still confused me.

I turned my head slightly to greet her with a smile. "Just a little project."

She rested her chin on my shoulder, her dark hair cascading down her face as she peered over at the remains on the table. "You call this a little project?" she teased, her voice laced with curiosity.

I chuckled softly. "The idea is to repurpose these fallen Archangels into something... more useful. An elite task force for the Underworld, something that can handle delicate or dangerous missions."

Her tired eyes scanned the scattered sketches on the table. Reaching out lazily, she plucked one of the pages from the pile. "Why not this one?"

I took the sheet from her hand, my eyes falling on the design she'd chosen. It was labeled "Nephilim," a concept I'd been toying with for months. A race that was a mix of Oni, Angel and Mortals. My lips curled into a grin.

"You always seem to know exactly what I need," I said, kissing her forehead gently.

Hecate shrugged, leaning into me. "It's a gift. Now, tell me—what else do you need?"

I set to work summoning several blocks of my primordial clay and resting them on different tables. I reached out, as I grasped each slab of clay with my divinity and started molding each and every one into several bodies, that of men and women of all shapes and sizes.

"Can you grab me some bark from the Trees of Knowledge and Immortality?" I asked as I worked, my focus split between the task at hand and her voice. She nodded, leaning up to press a soft kiss to my cheek before slipping away.

Once each clay had taken the form of a body, I moved to work on the seven Archangels as I stepped up to each 

I continued molding each body with precision. Four men and three women, each unique in form and features. Their horns varied—some longer or smaller while others had more animal-like horns.

Next came the infusion of the Archangels' remains. I carefully selected what Archangel remains went to what body. My mind did drift back to The Almighty. I had thought that he was so skilled creating the Archangels and Angels and yet how could one that calls himself The Almighty leave so many faults in the souls of those he created?

Closing my eyes to concentrate, I began to craft seven new souls. How would I explain how it worked? When I closed my eyes, I could see tiny particles of energy; taking these energies, I could combine them to create a soul, similar to a puzzle. Creating a mortal soul used a lot less energy particles than a god's soul, a territory I wasn't messing with yet. Now, the souls of the Archangels were a different matter. The Almighty really made a mess when he created their souls as it had bits and pieces of a bunch of particles that should never be put together, it seemed that he didn't even know what the hell he was doing.

I had to break down the original souls and reprogram them. I removed the bad code and replaced it with something that worked better and allowed them to grow and adapt and actually become their own person. I also decided to give them a new persona that can integrate them into the Greek world, and by doing that I gave them these Greco-Roman names. Now the Romans do not exist yet and yet I had spent years studying and learning Latin in my old life and it was such a beautiful language that I couldn't help but use it here.

Michael was the first to be reshaped. His body was in ruin, a gaping hole where his heart once beat. Breaking down his soul, I reforged him with a new purpose. I granted him mastery over combat, leadership, and an unwavering sense of justice—to protect and defend the weak. His new form had a more towering physique, his muscles were enhanced . Two sharp, curved horns jutted from his forehead, a mark of his rebirth as a warrior of the Underworld. His long, flowing white hair shimmered faintly, and his eyes burned with a golden light. I named him Machaelus (Μιχαηλος), after the Machai, spirits of battle.

Raphael had once been "The Divine Healer of Physical Ailments." So I had expanded on that and gifted him mastery over medicine, cultivation, alchemy, restoration, and purification. His body was tall and lean, his white skin looked almost like polished marble with veins of gold underneath his skin. His emerald eyes matched is long black black hair, changing his name to Raphaelius (Ραφαηλιος).

Gabriel was granted talent in stealth, assassination, espionage, and subterfuge, sharpening her instincts to a razor's edge. I enhanced her natural speed tenfold, allowing her to move faster than the eye could follow. Her new body was built for speed, her muscles were honed and molded so that she could be quick and have some power behind her punches or kicks. Her once-soft features became more sharp and predatory taking some inspiration from a jaguar, her violet eyes even glowed faintly in the dark and her short hair wouldn't get in her way. After some deciding, I named her Gaiana (Γαϊάνα).

Sariel was gifted the art of poisons, toxins, and curses. I granted her absolute mastery over afflictions, let us see what she does with these skills. Her new body was elegant yet deadly, her skin a pale, ghostly hue with dark veins running beneath the surface. Her lips were painted in an eerie shade of purple, her touch laced with venom. Her silver hair cascaded in waves, and her glowing crimson eyes carried the knowledge of a thousand poisons. She was now Sarphora (Σοφόρα), a being whose very breath could spell death.

Uriel was given destruction incarnate—the power to manipulate and control fire and magma. His skin and hair was blackened using black mud, his eyes were literal balls of fire. I drew these fires like tribal markings up his arm and back and even on his forehead and under his eyes and lips. These tattoos glowed this fiery red color. I had planned to give him the Primordial Flames, but his body rejected it—perhaps he was not yet ready. And so, he was reborn as Urielus (Ουριηλ).

Remiel was reforged in death itself. I granted him dominion over necromancy, decay, and the reanimation of the fallen. His body became gaunt yet unnaturally strong, his flesh taking on a pale boney complexion. His eyes were hollow voids, his white hair spiked out and down his back like a mane. From his back sprouted bony, black tattered wings. Being reborn as Remus (Ρημος), I planned to make him into the shepherd of the dead.

Lastly, Raguel was transformed into a force of raw destruction. I gifted her enhanced strength, mastery over explosions, and the ability to manipulate blood itself. Her body was a living weapon—her muscles rippled with barely contained power, her veins glowing faintly with crimson energy. Her dark red hair flowed wildly behind her, and her once-soft hands could now crush stone with ease. Her amber eyes burned with a dangerous light, a reflection of the chaos that simmered beneath her calm exterior. She was Rhaegara (Ραιγαρα), an avatar of destruction and carnage.

Hours passed in a blur of focus and determination. When Hecate returned, carrying bundles of materials, she didn't disturb me. I acknowledged her with a nod as she placed the items on the table and left with a soft smile.

The wood from the sacred trees became masks—seven distinct Nephilim masks. These masks, which I called the Nephilim Masks of Sin, each held the power of the Sin associated with its owner. If one of them died and passed their mask to an heir, that heir would inherit the title and powers of one of the cardinal sins.

I wanted to make a generational thing. They would have some immortality but could die in battle. Their blood was dominant. I programmed it into their souls to reproduce with humans. As the child grew older, their Nephilim blood would take over, transforming the mortal child into a half-Nephilim and later a full one when they become an adult. 

The final touches were complete. The seven Nephilim lay before me, each looking as if in deep sleep. Each of them was a work of art. I don't mean to brag, but I really did great....

CRACK

The table broke from my grip as I braced myself against it. My thoughts, usually as sharp and unyielding as the blade of my sword, wavered. My mind—so accustomed to the vast weight of the Underworld, the balance of souls, and the machinations of gods—was stuck on something far smaller, far more fragile.

The mortal, Aeolus. 

That damn boy wouldn't leave my head and I knew that I had to do something! I had tried to focus on this... project and yet I couldn't even bring them to life before my thoughts consumed me. I knew for a fact that he was the one I was looking for.

With a sigh, I waved a hand over the table, and the Nephlim bodies were stored as everything was cleaned up and the table was fixed. Fine, I guess it was time that I visited the mortal world and saw how he was myself. 

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I spent weeks observing Aeolus from the shadows of this startup little village. It seems that the rest of the mortals have progressed quite a lot since I last saw them. He worked tirelessly, moving from the harbor to the markets, doing whatever labor he could find. Each coin he earned went to his mother, an aging woman whose health had begun to fail. And yet, through it all, Aeolus never once faltered. He laughed, he worked, he endured.

But what intrigued me most was his power.

Even in small, unconscious ways, he controlled the winds. A basket toppling over right before a merchant scolded him—saved by a sudden gust. A stack of logs too heavy for him to carry lightning just enough for him to lift. It seemed that the villagers loved the young boy and seemed to assume that his gift was from the gods. 

One late night, as he slumped by the dying embers of his fire, exhaustion weighing on his young frame, I made my decision.

Stepping forward from the shadows, I allowed my form to shift, molding myself into that of an older mortal man. My robes altered to match those of the common folk, worn yet dignified, a traveler's cloak draped over my shoulders. The night air was thick with the scent of damp earth and burning wood, the small fire before the boy flickering as the winds whispered around him.

My footsteps disturbed the silence, crunching against loose gravel and dried leaves. Aeolus' head snapped up, his sharp, storm-colored eyes locking onto me with wary suspicion. He was lean, his body hardened by labor, yet there was an undeniable energy that crackled beneath his skin—raw, untamed, powerful.

"Who are you?" His voice carried a weariness that belied his years but remained steady, guarded.

I offered him a small, knowing smile. "An old friend of your father. You can call me, Leontios" My voice was measured, touched with the practiced cadence of truth wrapped in half-lies. "I traveled far after hearing of your gift."

His brow furrowed. "My father? He died when I was a child. He never spoke of you."

I nodded solemnly, moving with unhurried grace as I lowered myself onto a fallen log across from him. "We were friends long before you were born. Life has a way of pulling people apart, but fate, it seems, has led me back here." My eyes flickered to the flickering embers, then to his hands. "I only recently learned of you. Of what you can do."

Aeolus hesitated, his gaze studying me, weighing my words. Then, cautiously, he raised a hand. The air trembled at his fingertips, the wind coiling around his palm in soft, twisting currents. With a small grin, he let it dance around his wrist before dispersing into the night air.

"I was born with this," he said with quiet pride. "A gift from the gods."

I chuckled, my expression one of mild amusement. "A gift, you say? And yet, here you are, living as a common laborer. No temples built in your honor, no offerings at your feet. If the gods truly bestowed this upon you, would they have left you to struggle alone?"

His expression hardened. "Gifts aren't given for worship. They're meant to be used to help others."

I arched an eyebrow, leaning forward. "A noble thought. But misplaced. Power, Aeolus, is wasted if left untrained. It will stagnate, untapped potential slipping through your fingers like sand in the wind."

He stiffened. "What are you saying?"

I met his gaze, allowing my voice to dip into something softer, yet firm. "Let me train you. Let me help you master what you were born with."

Aeolus narrowed his eyes, suspicion creeping into his features. "Why would you do that? What do you gain?"

A smirk tugged at the corner of my lips. "Perhaps I see something in you. Potential. A destiny yet unwritten." I glanced skyward, as if contemplating unseen forces. "Or perhaps I merely owe your father a debt. One I can only repay by ensuring his son does not waste the greatness within him."

Aeolus shook his head, frustration evident. "No. I don't need training. I've lived just fine without it."

I exhaled slowly, rising to my full height, my presence casting a shadow against the dim firelight. "Your gift was not from the gods, boy. It was something far greater. And yet, it is a sign that you were meant for more."

His eyes flickered with something—doubt, curiosity, fear. He wanted to deny it, to reject my words. But the seed had been planted, and I saw it take root in his mind.

I extended a hand, my voice laced with quiet authority. "Once more, I offer. Let me train you, and you can go to Olympus and show them what they missed."

Aeolus hesitated, his fingers twitching, his breath shallow.

And then, he set his jaw and refused again. "No, I do not want to leave my mother alone, she needs me."

I studied him for a long moment before nodding, tucking my hands behind my back. "Very well. I will not force you."

Turning, I took a few steps away before pausing. Without glancing back, I added, "I plan to stay in these lands for a while longer. If you ever change your mind… seek me out."