The Sixth Trumpet « The Battle Begins Part 1

On the plain, the rebels were lined up. Baturiel had organized them into wings and ranks, like columns and 

lines, vertical and horizontal. They thus formed a massive army, like a very high wall of 

large thickness. Only the soldiers of the first wing supported themselves on land. The others, about them, 

they fluttered, hovered in the air, waiting to fly to their goal. They rose from the ground three thousand meters above, 

which was the distance from the ground to the top floor of the enemy fortress, and so they would advance, in formation. 

Baturiel, the Honorable, was the only one standing out and flew ahead, armed with spear and sword, prepared to 

lead the millions. It was night, but the full moon illuminated the entire desert, like a lit funeral chandelier. 

for the final confrontation. 

From the camp, the rebels watched the massacre of their elite warriors, brave celestials who 

They faced death to facilitate the action of the main legions. But as he watched his companions 

they fell, they did not weaken — on the contrary. With each silver slaughtered, it accumulated in the hearts of the 

insurgents the desire for combat, the energy that comes from revenge. With each moment of waiting, it grew 

the desire for battle, the willingness to fight, to cross arms and pursue triumph. 

And it was at the exact moment that one of the most esteemed wings fell that the Sixth Trumpet sounded. 

With spear and sword in his hands, Baturiel shouted, when the noise fell silent: 

— To the honorable, the laurels; to the wicked, death! — repeating Ablon's words in his speech to the 

army. — In honor of the Creator and the creatures of the earth! 

And he began his attack. 

The rebel legions followed him. 

At the Fortress of Sion, the defenders, who were still fighting with the silver fighters, saw the 

wonderful rebel army that rose in the south and progressed against the mountain range. If compared to 

troops under siege, the rebels constituted a small force, despite their millions of soldiers. THE 

The energy of these attackers, however, suffocated the wicked, who hurried to regain their position, as 

thus they thought themselves indestructible. But many of his generals had been exterminated by the 

elite fighters, and captains found it difficult to remake the rings. 

Then, before they regrouped the defense belt, a torrent of arrows, which looked more like lightning bolts, 

golden, it rushed over part of the warriors protecting the bastille. Shots from all 

directions, the arrows found their targets, slaughtering a large number of those under siege. There were so many 

projectiles that, when thrown, imitated a fast wave, obscuring even the brightness of the moon. 

But where did that almost invisible attack come from? How had he surprised such efficient soldiers? 

The well-aimed bites decimated all the fighters surrounding the tower's pinnacle and, when they 

fell, Varna saw the courtyard of the Wheel of Time. He noticed a woman with light skin and black hair 

attached to a marble pillar and concluded that she was the Sorceress of En-Dor, although he had never known her. 

found. 

— And that necromancer — he said to an officer at his side. — The dome was intended to hide her from the 

First General, so that he could enter Sion by another route. Is it possible that the warrior angel 

is being lured into a trap. 

In the Tower of a Thousand Windows, one of the evil commanders, called Mirdoth, saw the movement of the 

archers in the surrounding mountains, now clearly apparent, and understood how much their fighters 

were vulnerable to successive attacks. From this, he deduced the strategy of the rebels and tried to 

organize squads. 

—Fly to the mountain range! — he shouted. — Massacre the outcasts! 

- No! — disagreed a second general, bursting into screams. — We cannot leave the fortress 

unguarded. 

The legions hesitated, awaiting the final command. 

—Then let's divide the groups — proposed Mirdoth. — I will not serve as a target for the insurgents. 

— Call the legions from inside the tower! — demanded a third, injured in the wing by a blow from the 

silvery. 

While they were arguing, a new torrent was started. Mirdoth was pierced by an arrow he 

it went through the throat, and another fell with a point lodged in his shoulder. More defenders fell, 

but there were still many untouched. A surviving officer authorized the deployment of troops from the 

inside the tower to the outside. 

Thus, Sion became something similar to a nest of insects, full of drones that came out in 

queue, adjusting the stingers. 

But, abandoning the fort, the internal companies emptied the main halls, leaving the guard 

from their tunnels to a few watchmen, who alone would not be able to prevent an invasion — 

in case the rebels penetrated there. 

In the dark Hall of Portals, Ablon and Miguel looked at each other, in perfect concentration, illuminated 

only by the ardor of their shining swords. Confident in his greatness, the Prince of Angels 

He waited for the first blow, delighting in the enemy's tension. The general, in turn, sweated, 

waiting for a hesitation to maneuver his blade. 

The two — prince and tramp — listened, with their tuned senses, to the shouting from outside and the 

tear of the deadly arrows that stuck in the besieged. Then came the muffled impact of the arrows, 

taking down the defenders one by one. 

— It seems that your warriors were surprised — said the renegade. — My legions gave 

start the attack. Soon, Sion will be invaded. 

— Your regiments don't lose by waiting. The insurgents will be annihilated, and their legions completely 

won. The woman will be sacrificed, and the essence of her soul will elevate me to divinity. 

— Your madness is pathetic, Miguel. With or without a human spirit, do you think that, alone, you will be able to 

govern all universal space? His leadership crumbled to the firmament and divided the angels in heaven. Your 

charisma is a sham, and his supporters fear him. What kind of kingdom do you intend to forge under the yoke of fear? 

—Fear is the instrument of the strong, not charisma or love. Only firmness and repression govern. THE 

benevolence leads to weakness, indiscipline and inaction. And you, general, are the image of the weak, the 

stain that threatens the purity of the glorious. For millennia I tolerated your anarchy, but today I will end 

my mission, as recommended by the Creator Father. 

Ablon did not understand, at all, the curious fatalism of the sovereign. Imagine what drove 

his faith in the absurd, but he interrupted his reasoning when he noticed the action of the opposing sword. It was the 

Flame of Death, which descended to crush his forehead! 

In sudden aggression, the tyrant attacked with all his energy and skill, and for a moment the cherub found himself 

if desperate, like his clashes with Lucifer and Gabriel. But a superior force animated their 

movements, and the Scourge of Fire rose to block the opponent's powerful blade. To the shock of 

weapons, a fire emanated from the burning leaves, lighting up the entire room. 

— So you dare to persist in the challenge, instead of giving yourself up to death? — growled the Celestial Monarch. 

— I'm going further with my boldness — countered the general. At supreme speed, it rolled to the side and 

It advanced like a voracious beast. 

But the archangel was cunning and defended himself. Thus began the combat, with an incredible succession of 

blows that, with each blow, shook the fortress. 

While still recovering from the shock of the arrows, the defenders witnessed the violent approach 

of the rebels. The regular legions, led by Baturiel, advanced on the besieged, full of 

anger and will. Down below, at the base of the tower, thousands of bodies were already piled up, victims of the 

golden arrows and the strength of silver warriors. The amount of corpses, destroyed and 

mutilated, they prostrated themselves on the floor, reaching the height of the first floor. 

Finally, the few survivors of the elite group received reinforcements. They could retreat now and still 

maintain their honor, but none of the celestials abandoned the fight. They continued to fight, and would continue 

fighting until final victory, or until death took them. 

Then came the inevitable shock. The new rebels' army attacked at several levels, each 

which is aimed at a defense belt. Millions of fortress guardians received the invaders' cargo, 

which quickly spread to all corners. Baturiel and his angels swallowed the siege lines, 

suppressing Miguel's defenses like a hand closing over the handle of a cane. 

In the distance, the Tower of a Thousand Windows became a black tangle of winged soldiers, 

they fought in a fierce offensive. The conflict zone looked like a glowing cloud, now black, now red, 

that moved in uneven waves. 

For those in the heat of the battle, the noise was almost unbearable. Metal clashing, screams 

shrill with pain, whirring arrows and spears passing inches away. Though Sion rose to 

kilometers from the ground, the battle area was overcrowded, and every now and then a warrior was wounded by a 

slipping blow. In addition to the thin air caused by the altitude, the heat at the center of the fight was incredible, with millions 

of celestials fighting so close together. 

The rebels were superior, they had bravery, strength and discipline, and at first their triumph was certain. But 

Squadrons kept coming out of the bastille, replacing the thousands of dead and dead every second. 

injured. 

— How many more are there still in there? — asked Shenial, an insurgent general, to the honorable 

Baturiel. 

— I don't know — the other admitted, flying through the opposing lines. — Attack the commanders! — 

he barked, always attentive to the evolution of the confrontation. — Without the captains, the evil ones will remain 

bewildered. 

And, illustrating the ordered tactic, Baturiel saw an enemy leader, who with his sword in hand 

tried to regroup his division. His name was Lahash, and before the civil war he was considered an official 

undisciplined yet powerful. He must have achieved the rank of commander through flattery and 

sub terfuges, and the Honorable decided that he would be their target. 

A master in the use of the spear, Baturiel threw the weapon at Lahash. The blade flew so fast that 

it seemed invisible, and finally penetrated the celestial's chest plate. The rival didn't take long to die. In a 

Instantly his wings closed, his vision went out and he fell, disturbing the soldiers who were fighting on the ground. 

belts below. 

A Miguel officer arrived from behind, but Baturiel sensed the blow. He dodged the steel and soon 

advanced. The most obvious decision was to react with a punch. The punch hit the opponent in the jaw, and 

Even with the noise of war, everyone there heard the sound of the neck cracking. 

Then, he drew his sword and continued with the slaughter. 

The assault of the fire angels 

At the top of the fortress, Ablon and Miguel persisted in a fervent duel. The blades met, and the 

First General resisted, but the superiority of the Prince of Angels was clear, who frustrated all 

enemy blows, responding to attacks with admirable skill. 

Ablon tried to advance with a vertical assault, aiming for his head, then horizontally, to the right and 

on the left. Miguel defended with such force that the block was almost an attack and forced the renegade 

using all the power of your muscles to avoid breaking in half. 

It was the prince's turn to step forward. He was so fast that his blows left traces of movement 

printed in the air, which disappeared moments later. A human who witnessed combat 

that way he wouldn't even see the blows, his speed was so amazing. 

Miguel fought with unique mastery. He launched a sequence of light attacks, without much penetration, just 

to tire the enemy. After ten or fifteen moves, it used its wings to jump onto Ablon, 

spinning, and descending onto his back. With effort, the First General managed to turn around, but the guard 

It wasn't firm yet. By sheer luck, the Flame of Death found the Scourge of Fire—if it touched 

in armor, the renegade would be dead! The blow was impressive, and Ablon was played hard 

against the wall, feeling some bones in his right wing break. A little blood ran down the 

mouth, but he got up promptly, to catch the next blow. 

In the course of his adventures, he had never faced such a formidable opponent. Not even in your 

legendary battles had confronted an opponent with such capacity. 

— Give up, rebel! — exclaimed the tyrant. — Your insistence will only postpone your death. Prostrate yourself, so that 

I shorten this duel. 

The cherub stopped, faced with the sudden proposal. 

—An archangel showing mercy? Is it not steadfastness that governs the universe? 

Miguel didn't respond. For a second, justice struck his heart, and he remembered the Battles 

Primeval and the face of the Heavenly Father, full of affection and kindness. There was a time when the prince 

He came to love, but that love had led him to jealousy. This was in the days of old, when Yahweh had made 

its essence is the human soul, handing over to mortals the earthly work, which the archangels believed to be theirs. THE 

The giants' love was transmuted into hatred, fostering tyranny. 

— Why, Winged Prince? — insisted the renegade. — How did it deteriorate to such a point? Why didn't you do the 

which was commanded him and praised the grace of men? Perhaps, if I had shown them the path of good, 

had never known war or violence. Isn't that what you were crowned for? To lead angels 

and mortals and lead them to the path of virtue? 

A glimmer of hope lit up in the malevolent figure's eyes. 

"Orion would have agreed with you," he admitted. — That's how he reigned in Atlantis. But I'm not 

indulgent. I refuse to serve the impure, because I come from the light of the Almighty. How could 

worship a bunch of animals that crawled in the depths of filthy caves? 

— Humans are the heirs of God and carry the legacy of the Creator in their souls - Ablon disagreed. — 

He should have conformed, served. But his pride incited him to carnage. 

Miguel lowered his sword, dismayed, reflecting on the impasse. It was slightly taller than 

Ablon, and physically more vigorous. 

—So I ask you, Renegade Angel, why are you fighting me? It is also not a 

wicked man who fought in a thousand bloody battles? 

— I will not deny it — he acknowledged — nor will I justify myself for my murders. I won't judge my 

actions, nor yours. But now I can't back down anymore. There are many I love, many who trusted 

For them, I will fight until the last spark, even if I have to steal another life to do so. 

— Kill him — surprised the En-Dor Sorceress, chained. The general did not understand his attitude, 

so calm the woman used to be. He supposed he was under tremendous mental fatigue. 

But it was Miguel who attacked, recovering all his madness. Doubt disappeared from the oppressor's face, and he 

struck with the Flame of Death, in a treacherous maneuver. To the energetic impact of the enemy weapon, the 

Scourge of Fire slipped from the renegade's hands, getting lost at one end of the room. 

Unarmed, the general prepared the Wrath of God, but before that he suffered another attack. It achieved 

dodge, but fled to a small area, where he would be cornered. The blade slipped on the floor 

stone, opening a huge fissure in the floor. 

Michael turned around, surrounding the cherub in a corner and holding him at sword's edge. 

— This is your border, outcast, your limit. His journey comes to an end - and, without mercy, he maneuvered his 

weapon to deliver the fatal shock. 

Once again, however, the Wrath of God would save the hero. 

With unbelievable dexterity, the punch came, and Ablon realized how good he felt using his technique. 

fundamental. He never really knew how it happened, but it seemed like he had never been so strong. THE 

divine energy coursed through his body, shaking the atoms in space and concentrating the vigor in the hardness of the 

fists. The Wrath of God, usually invisible, shone with a golden aura, hitting the tyrant's face 

celeste. 

Miguel didn't expect a surprise like that. He only saw the punch approaching, exploding against the 

nose, completely destroying his helmet. Stunned, he staggered back, tripped and fell. Now there was 

blood on his face, and for a minute his vision went black. He coughed and tried to hold on to the wall. 

Ablon's punch cleared the path between the First General and the Enchantress of En-Dor. With the speed 

from the victim, Apollyon's blackened feather, which the warrior carried on his belt, came loose and 

escaped into the darkness without him noticing. 

In the short moment of calm, during which Miguel stood up, Ablon did not think about massacring him. 

He dismissed the opportunity to liquidate his rival and preferred to free the necromancer, imprisoned by the 

iron chains. For her he had entered the war, and for her he had invaded Sion. 

The Renegade Angel would help Shamira, and then end the fight. 

Even with the fortress's internal legions joining the external troops, the rebels won. You 

defending soldiers were replaced by the squadrons that left the tower, but not even the uninjured were 

capable of holding back the courage of the invaders. In the mountains, the archers continued to fire their weapons. 

arrows, but no longer in compact waves, but in surgical attacks, so as not to injure companions 

in combat. Now, not only the floor, but the steps that circled the floors were packed with 

dead, and the red stones of the bastion became even redder. 

Then, a group of celestials enveloped in a burning cloud appeared on the horizon. From the body 

red flames escaped, and the fists lit torches. These rebels, led by 

priceless Aziel, were not warrior angels. They carried no weapons or armor. They were the ishins, 

rulers of the elemental forces, who arrived at the battle at the moment the tower was emptied. 

Their mission was to invade the bastille and ignite the symbol of oppression, destroying the greatest pride of the people. 

archangel Michael. 

— Silver Warriors — called Baturiel, upon noticing the approach of Aziel and his team —, behind 

me! Prepare spearhead — he ordered. At least a hundred elite scouts still lived and 

responded to the command of the valiant general. 

With these heroes, the Honored One formed a double line in the sky, to pierce the enemy positions and open 

a safe bridge, through which the fire angels could pass without being hit. They weren't 

combatants, despite their magnanimous power, and would suffer if exposed to the heat of conflict. 

So they attacked the Silvers and their commander, improvising a celestial trail. Through this free corridor 

The Ishins followed to enter the fort through its countless windows, now unguarded. 

When they stepped into the halls of Sion — immense empty chambers, with magnificent stained glass windows, enormous columns and 

pointed roof —, Aziel and his wingmen were ready to start the fire. 

But what about Ablon, the First General? He hadn't returned yet. 

The Sacred Flame decided to wait. 

Betrayal in Zion 

Ablon crossed the Hall of Portals with a flap of his wings, flying over the pedestal in the center of the chamber. 

upon which lay the Book of Life. He grabbed the wall and, with just his hands, broke the chains that 

they arrested Shamira. 

The iron broke with a muffled crack. 

Without giving space for reasoning, the Renegade Angel took the sorceress in his arms, who leaned on the 

hero armor. 

— I'll leave her in a safe area. There are many empty tunnels on the lower floors," he warned, pleased to see 

to have freed her, but then he was surprised by the aroma of the skin, which masked an adverse odor. The texture of the complexion 

it also looked very different, and even the heartbeat didn't sound the same. 

At the other end of the room, the Prince of Angels stood up, with his black hair cut into a bob. 

white lock now loose, after the destruction of his helmet. From there, he took back the Flame of Death and 

he saw the necromancer's face, supported by the general's shoulder. Suddenly, the brown eyes of the 

The girl turned blue, and her face inverted into a demonic expression. 

Still without his sword, Ablon turned towards the exit and only then noticed the nuances of the 

room. With his wife in his possession, he observed the entire room carefully, looking for the best wrinkle route. But then 

noticed a terrible detail. 

Of the dozens of mystical doors, with their ringed indentations and characteristic symbols, one stood 

half-open — it was the passage to hell! 

Before he could react, the necromancer's small hand, which was hugging his strong neck, grew into claws. 

huge. Pointed, black and sharp nails penetrated the cherub's throat, tearing his flesh. 

in a slight movement. 

Immediately, the renegade released her and fell to his knees, with jets of blood splashing across the floor. The cut 

it had torn the carotid artery, and death was just a matter of minutes. 

Stunned, scared and speechless, Ablon turned his gaze to the sorceress's figure and suddenly 

he understood who his cunning executioner truly was. 

Lucifer, the Dark Archangel, was there, standing, staring at the renegade with his usual malicious smile. 

As before, he wore a white tunic, but now overlaid with a golden plate. He carried a sword 

— a rare fact, because he was never seen carrying any type of weapon. 

But what was the Lord of Sheol doing in the Fortress of Zion? How would you have gotten into the tower? Who would have it 

called? It was a demon, supposedly the greatest enemy in heaven. 

"The Devil has many faces," whispered the Morning Star. — You may have heard this before. 

somewhere — he compressed his bat wings and put his fingers together theatrically. 

— Lucifer! — exclaimed the First General, struggling to breathe. — You traitor! It was a 

illusion... 

— Illusion? —he protested, indignant. — Now, general, recognize, at least once, the greatness of 

my skills. This is absolutely not an illusion. And my ability to transmute myself. You 

I already knew her, I suppose. 

The renegade said nothing, overcome by pain and choking on his own blood, which was flowing in liters. 

through the neck. 

— Try to understand, Ablon, it's nothing personal. I did everything I could to avoid this horrible confrontation. I called him 

came to me and offered him a wedding ring. And then, when you refused, I had no choice — and he pretended to scowl. 

cry. — I'm so sorry! If your answer was different, maybe we would be here today, me, you and Miguel, 

ready to usher in a new world, prepared to rule the entire universe. What is the earth 

if not a seed close to the magnitude of the cosmos? How many planets could we populate out there? 

How many suns could we still dominate? 

And, when he finished his speech, he became very serious and added: 

— Armageddon is not the end, it is the beginning. 

— But the revolution... — Ablon coughed. — The war in heaven. 

— My fall was forged — continued the Son of Dawn — and very well engineered by me and 

by my brother — and the image of the Prince of Angels resurfaced in the general's limited field of vision 

dying. — Thus, we would rule heaven and hell, light and darkness, and in the end we would have the 

reward for which we wait. For our conspiracy, we recruited a double agent, the Dark Angel, 

single channel of communication between the hold and the perch, an entity capable of traveling freely through 

planes of existence. Now, with the essence of the sorceress, we will have free will, and the destruction of 

fabric will extinguish the border that restricts our powers. Omnipotent and endowed with their own will, 

we will fulfill our destiny and rise to divinity. The god of light and the god of darkness, reigning 

absolutes about infinity! 

— Two archangels sharing power? — the hypothesis would even be comical, if it weren't so tragic. 

— His vision is limited, because he does not know the annals of ancient days. A long time ago, before the light, 

there was Yahweh, the god of light, and Tehom, the goddess of darkness. The Creator gave us life so that 

let us fight alongside you in the Primeval Battles and defeat the gods of darkness. And when everything goes 

ended, when the Most High won and completed the work of creation, he felt idle, because there was 

your objective has been achieved. And, tired, he dissipated his essence. Reluzente's biggest mistake was to have become a 

unique, because this ended up leading him to inertia. We will not make this mistake. There will always be brightness and 

obscurity; these are two immixable provinces. We will be eternal, unending, and each one 

will control your kingdom. The stimulus of life will forever shine within us, because space is perennial. AND 

when we are bored, there will be more worlds left to colonize or destroy; more places to 

satisfy our hunger. We will populate the cosmos with our loyal agents, who will be neither angels nor 

demons, but a renewed species, our heralds. The double reign will guarantee our endless 

survival. And thus ends our collusion, so exquisitely carried out — he concluded, 

walking closer to his brother. — In paradise or in Sheol, no one suspected our 

intention — he boasted. — The power of communication is admirable. I think I'm the father of politicians. 

Michael, Prince of Angels, returned the Flame of Death to its sheath and approached the general. 

— Ishtar came close to the truth — revealed the tyrant, invoking the name of the renegade, the first 

murdered outcast, beaten by the Black Angel. 

— Ah, yes, that poor girl — Lucifer remembered. —How could I have forgotten her? Ishtar was the 

the only one who suspected our ruse. 

Angry but useless, Ablon crawled across the floor of the room, in a vain attempt to retake the Scourge of Fire, 

that was still crackling nearby. The enemies laughed, despising his efforts. 

— Shortly before the fall, Miguel and I met on earth to work out the details of the 

conspiracy, away from the other archangels. Ishtar, who was wandering around, sensed our aura and 

discovered our secret. It would be a danger to us if she spilled the beans, so 

we preferred to exterminate her and hunt down all those to whom she could pass the information. Here's why 

for which the brotherhood was condemned. 

—So it was all an excuse — groaned the general. — The justification that the renegades provoked 

his fall was just a pretext. Miguel's propaganda was also nothing more than a hoax to 

silence. 

— Before that, we saw the Brotherhood of Renegades as a retinue of despicable people. Your 

ideas could not threaten us... until this unpleasant episode happened. And then we had to decree 

his persecution. 

Exhausted, at the limit of his strength, Ablon was encouraged to once again reach for the hilt of his sword, but 

couldn't. A large stain of blood flooded the stone floor, and its pressure plummeted. 

With his gray eyes already fading, he stared at the door of hell, cursing his lack of caution and 

his inability to understand the sharp minds of his enemies. Lucifer crouched down for one last and 

surprising revelation. 

— Key. I never really needed it, or I wouldn't have given it to the Devil's cave. It was a 

original relic, indeed, but it made no difference to me, as my passage to Sion 

has been open since the beginning. I used it to divert your attention, and I succeeded, it seems to me. The secret 

of a good lie is in the details, general. 

Unable to speak or react, the Renegade Angel groaned, wishing he had the Scourge of Fire within reach. 

Admired by the cherub's vigor, the Son of Dawn, sarcastic, signaled to his brother, 

allowing the dying man to retrieve his weapon. The Celestial Monarch agreed, more out of sadism 

out of pity, and kicked the sword, which ended up under the fist of the massacred warrior. With all the 

With the energy he still had, Ablon tightened his grip on the handle of his saber, without intending to let go. 

— If you prefer... — the Devil consented — Die brandishing the sword... I will have no objection. 

Lucifer turned on his heel and spoke to his accomplice: 

— Come on, Miguel. Let's continue our conversation on the roof. It's more airy there - he called, 

referring to the tower's spire, the Wheel of Time courtyard, where the real Shamira was 

imprisoned. — Let us allow the rebel to see the sorceress for the last time. 

The Prince of Angels grabbed the general by the collar of his armor to drag him to the terrace. Before, however, 

He took the Book of Life from the pedestal and took it with him to the highest floor. 

The Morning Star went up the stairs, followed by Miguel. The renegade's blood ran down the steps, 

drawing a macabre trail and making a puddle on the floor of the room. 

To stimuli from the brain, the cherub's muscles no longer responded, but his fingers remained 

firm, carrying the burning blade with them. 

The City at the Center of the Cosmos 

In the red and murky waters of the Styx, the leviathans were very close to their destination, although the 

passengers were unaware of the route. The boatmen had led the hordes across dimensions 

extraordinary, some even beyond the intelligence of the clever dukes of hell. 

The last shortcut would cross a hidden universe, terrifying to demons — not because of its evil character, 

but by its illogical nature. For a group of powerful fallen, who thought they had seen everything and 

Having lived through the most formidable experiences, it was a place of agony and frustration. 

The leviathans slipped down a canal, one of the main arms of the Styx. The ripples burst in the 

banks, held back by greenish iron walls, corroded by rust. The terrain, throughout 

sides, gave life to an impressive city, different from conceivable standards. Long towers 

They rose from the ground, topped by twisted steel spikes. In the sky, more buildings were sprouting, 

upside down, as if the city were shaped inside a sphere, of incalculable proportions. 

But despite its spaciousness, the location was stuffy, humid and suffocating. A deadly silence flooded 

the metropolis, broken, every minute, by a sharp noise, similar to the dragging of a 

monstrous current. And, at the edge of the canal, the frightening inhabitants of that land huddled together. 

bizarre — small, round beings, with a metallic shell, without limbs, that floated in the air. 

They had no face, just a single eye, without eyelids, which they used to observe passersby. 

They exuded a sinister kind of impartiality, as if they had no spirit or emotions, good 

or bad. In this respect, they were identical to the boatmen—enigmatic, impenetrable creatures. 

Asmodeus was surprised to examine such an unusual scene. 

"Tell me, Orion," the demon hissed at the Fallen King of Atlantis. — You, who studied so much about the 

infinite mysteries of the multiverse... what would you say about this fearful environment? 

Satanis looked at the steel towers again and tilted his head. 

— Xandria, the City at the Center of the Cosmos — he stated, without much certainty. — And so called by 

malakins, even though it is not exactly a city nor is it exactly in the center of the cosmos. 

—And what are these empty figures, staring at us from the shore? — asked the duke, referring to the 

iron skin entities. — They do not give off any essence or vital energy. 

The Atlantean's erudition did not reach that much. 

— I don't know who they are, but they belong to an adverse cosmic sphere, and that explains our inability to 

to understand them. Perhaps they are animated by another type of energy, different from mine or yours. 

It would be foolish to speculate about 

— he concluded, ending the conversation. 

From the bow, the eight satanic nobles saw the passage to a gallery and watched as the opening opened. 

expanded like magic, to receive the first of the giant ships. The river tunnel, which descended to the 

underground, it expanded, and through it followed the leviathans, full of devils and slave spirits. 

Soon, they would reach the terminal point of the journey: the ethereal plane. 

Serpent Venom 

While the battle continued around Sion, victimizing millions of winged people, inside Aziel and the Ishins 

they waited, in the frigidity of the empty chambers. Even together, they looked like ants in the face of the enormity of the 

abandoned halls. After all supporting legions moved out of the tower, the fortress 

it remained unprotected, quiet and somewhat gloomy. The moon's glow pierced the stained glass windows, drawing 

funereal figures in the shadows of the magnificent bronze columns, which sometimes replaced the pillars 

rocky, in certain more sumptuous rooms. 

The Sacred Flame and its followers — fiery angels, who kept their fists in perennial fire — 

They searched the rooms and advanced, little by little, towards the heart of the bastille, looking for their 

fundamental axis, to then start the fire. They could start the fire immediately, since 

their divine flames were sufficiently intense to consume stone, glass and bronze. Mas Aziel goodbye 

the action, preferring, rather, to seek the central line of support, the point where the explosions would cause 

more efficient — and faster — destruction. The delay would also give the First General more time, 

who until then had not returned to the war field. 

The team entered a small tunnel, with circular walls and dim lighting — one of the passages 

labyrinthine paths that connected to the upper floors, also called angelic pathways —, 

finally arriving at a wide and empty corridor. The north wall was open, supported by pilasters 

square. The window allowed an impressive view of the outside, and from there the invaders watched, for 

seconds, the evolution of the conflict and the determination of the rebels, who vigorously overthrew the besieged, 

dethroning their defenses and paving the way to final victory. 

Banishing the darkness with his inflamed hands, Aziel, surprised, saw strange marks on the floor, which 

so peculiar they caught his attention. They seemed to have melted the floor, all paved with massive 

stone slabs. They were footprints, or so they appeared. He knelt down to examine them and discovered, 

still, tiny holes in the ground, like droplets of erosion, supposedly caused by drops 

corrosive — or were they tears of fire? 

He touched the distortions and realized that they were still boiling. Such marks would certainly have been caused by 

scorching footsteps, emanating from some elemental entity, as or more powerful than him. Aziel 

he knew that only the ishins had the ability to create flames capable of melting the hardest rocks, and 

He initially imagined that a member of his caste, sympathetic to the enemy, was wandering around. 

Being in the main stronghold of the celestials loyal to Miguel, Aziel's mind forgot the simplest. 

Not only did the Ishins hold supremacy over the province of fire, but also the Zanathus. Excited and 

Fearful, he soon realized his mistake. 

— Amael... — he deciphered, in a choked murmur. And he turned to his companions: 

— Stay here and do nothing until I return. 

Immediately, his followers obeyed the command, because they understood, at the exact moment, the charge 

dramatic situation and the great challenge imposed, by chance, on the squadron leader. If Amael were 

Even there, in the Tower of a Thousand Windows, Aziel must face him—and alone. 

He didn't stop to think about the absurdity of an infernal moving freely through the fortress. 

of the Winged Sovereign. Since when did impregnable Sion serve as a hiding place for devils? 

Cautiously, but not stealthily, he continued down the corridor, without seeing what was lurking ahead. 

The first of the leviatis—probably the largest—came out of the tunnel into a large flooded cave and 

rushed into the arid plain of the ethereal. From then on, the Styx meandered through the desert, skirting, 

far away, the mountain range that embraced Sion. It was night, but a strong full moon illuminated the battlefield. 

From a distance, the dukes watched the magnificent spectacle of the angelic armies, which fought against each other. 

in the air, around the towering fortress. One of the parties, supposedly the rebel, was leading the dispute, 

inflicting severe casualties on enemies. They had already slaughtered so many wicked people that now the number of 

rebel soldiers, initially inferior, equaled the contingent of the besieged — and followed by 

killing. The walls of the tower and its circular steps were covered in blood, and on the floor the 

corpses were piled up in layers, at the height of the first floors. There were millions of wings 

slaughtered, millions of bodies thrown, severed and mutilated, with their wings broken and their throats cut. 

However, the outside of the bastille continued to be infested by attackers and defenders, and the battle did not 

it stopped. 

"We are far more numerous than any of the heavenly armies," boasted Molloch, the 

Executioner, with his big head and small horns. 

— But look how they fight! — exclaimed Asmodeus. — Furthermore, the bulk of our forces are made up of 

by weak and stupid slave spirits. 

— But we also have our elite troops — protested Mephistopheles, an imposing figure, of 

fire skin and bat wings —, and our malikis are barbaric and furious, unparalleled fighters. 

— Yes — agreed Orion — but who will we fight against? We still lack the correct instruction for 

how to act — he recalled, and the satanic nobles looked at Samael, the Serpent of Eden. 

The disgusting advisor turned around and faced the aristocrats from the bow, with a cheeky expression. Not one 

word had been revealed until then, but the dukes already imagined the strategy, secretly defined by 

Lucifer and passed on to his front man. They assumed that they should wait for the end of the battle, to 

then bargain with the weakened victors. If they did not agree to capitulate, the infernals would launch 

his hordes, which would annihilate the already tired legions without much difficulty. It was a dirty tactic, 

cowardly, but completely pleasing to the cruel devil lords. In fact, the fallen expected the 

celestials actually resisted, so that they could destroy them, giving impetus to their murderous wrath 

and carrying out the ultimate revenge against those who, one day, expelled them from heaven. They would demand 

summary executions, sacrifices and humiliations, even if the winged ones gave up their weapons. 

— Prepare the battalions — hissed the serpent — but delay the swords. Raise the banners. 

Let's show our friendship to the Prince of Angels. 

- What? — Fat Mammon grunted in disbelief. The other dugues, astonished, lost their speech before 

the unexpected command. Seal an alliance with any of the divine parties, especially with the 

followers of the archangel Michael, was an affront to those demons, overthrown in ancient times by the forces 

of the Winged Monarch. Lucifer himself recognized his brother as his worst enemy, the adversary who 

had defeated his rebellion and condemned him to exile in the darkness of Sheol. — What nonsense is this, you 

damn cobra? 

— It's not a joke, just the master's order. I am loyal to my master. 

— It is difficult to accept that the Dark Archangel ordered us to associate with the angels — he supported 

Asmodeus, and at his rhetoric those present were stirred. Mammon was the angriest. 

— The Morning Star would never make a pact with the one who ruined us. His memory is long and plentiful — 

the unctuous infernal exploded. —The filthy creeper is lying! 

Disgusted, more with Samael's leadership than with the ordered strategy, the chiefs wielded 

the weapons. 

— I suggest you calm down, gentlemen! — asked the snake, cornered. — I guarantee that the order comes from 

Our satanic Majesty, who has deemed it essential to maintain secrecy until now. 

But, with the exception of Orion, the aristocrats did not hold back. They hated the Serpent of Eden and would love 

put an end to his indigestible career. Mammon, who was closest to the counselor, was the first to 

advance. He raised the ax and prepared the weapon to shred the scaly man. 

Samael was a weak and slender monster, but quick and cunning. When the big guy staged the coup, the 

The snake opened its mouth wide and spat foul-smelling venom in the attacker's face. At the same instant, 

Mammon dropped the heavy blade and, dizzy from the spit, collapsed backwards onto the deck. The noise alarmed 

the nobles of hell, who collected the guard. 

With his face bubbling with sores of pus, the massive Mammon screamed like a pig in the 

slaughterhouse. He spat out balls of blood and writhed in progressive convulsions. The venom, naturally 

lethal, it caused the flesh and muscles to dilate, obstructing the throat and nostrils. Suddenly, the victim 

he could no longer breathe, and the venous walls ruptured under the accelerated pressure. The organs and the heart 

they collapsed and went bankrupt practically together. 

It was on the floor of the leviathan, writhing in pain, unable to utter one last insult, that the Duke died. 

Mammon, choking on his own saliva. 

Terror dominated the spectators, and the attempt to challenge Lucifer's favorite was frustrated. Samael 

He would have laughed, but he contained his arrogance. Mammon's manic outburst had served his interests well, 

promoting a turnaround in the situation. By murdering one of the fallen, he had regained all respect, 

defending himself from the attack. 

— I put my word to the test — declared the serpent. —This is the wish of the Dark Archangel, and I speak 

in your name. The discontented may defect now and suffer the consequences later. 

With no other options and convinced that Samael was telling the truth, the powerful adhered to his will. THE 

The counselor's fatal maneuver and his bold words showed how clever he was. The dukes don't 

They had more intention — or courage — to provoke him, and they suppressed their pride. 

The Serpent of Eden, with reborn morals, raised his head and looked at the fortress beyond the mountains. 

He noticed the voracity of the fight and the imminent defeat of the prince's winged supporters, whom 

should provide assistance. Then, he turned his reptilian body and contemplated the line of leviathans, which at least 

riverbed followed the flagship — the same boat in which the dukes sailed. glimpsed the 

millions of demons in the holds and decks, eager to spring into action. He paid attention to the captains; 

He saw the elite troops, the satanic knights and the slave spirits. He saw the chaotic crowd of 

malikis, the warrior devils, and saw the remaining mass of infernals, monsters of all castes, 

inflated with fury and evil. 

— The day has come when hell will walk the earth — said Samael, having already overcome the crisis. — 

Notify your commanders of your decision. Soon, the ships will dock, and the divisions will be ready. 

The first transport was reserved for dukes, high-ranking officers and special forces. Such forces were 

formed by incredible knights, equipped with spears and full armor, who guided horses 

skeletal — hideous beasts, with parched skin and fiery hooves. The mounted demons could not 

fly, but their beasts had the power to soar into the heavens and trot with the wind. 

— If I may ask, O counselor... — Asmodeus dared, adding an ironic touch to the 

oratory. — Are the besieged aware that we will fight on their side? 

Samael knew that, although feared, his reputation could be destroyed again. Arguing with the Dukes 

it was like walking on eggshells, and a single wrong move would throw him back into the abyss. 

— We will raise the flag of the archangel Michael in alignment with ours, signaling the alliance. 

— What if they refuse support? — asked Mephistopheles. 

Satan pointed a scaly finger at the war zone, indicating the superior energy of the rebels. 

— They won't refuse. Defenders have no choice. If they decline our membership, they will be massacred 

by the rebels. Our hordes come to save them from complete ruin. And, once the battle is over, it will be us, still 

strengthened, that we will dictate the rules to the weakened troops. 

It was true. The besieged angels were wicked, unscrupulous, and would not reject the help that the 

would avoid the collapse. The insurgents would not give up their ideals, they loved justice, and would never 

they would fight in agreement with the satanic soldiers. 

It was clear to the dukes who they should fight, but why? What did Lucifer intend, helping 

an enemy of ages? 

The conspiracy hypothesis then arose in Orion's mind. Were the two in league? He would be 

Is this the reason for the absence of the Lord of Sheol during the entire preparation of the campaign? What I coveted 

Lucifer in protecting the interests of the tyrant who inhabited Sion? 

And finally, there was one more question. 

Where was Apollyon? 

The Last Arrow 

Lucifer climbed the ladder and emerged through the trapdoor, an open passage in the floor, which accessed the pinnacle. 

of the fortress, at the highest point of the tower. In the small courtyard, with the Wheel of Time in the middle, the Archangel 

Sombrio found dozens of bodies lying on the ground. These fallen angels had been delegated 

to defend the terrace, but they were annihilated by the golden arrows of the rebel archers, right at the 

principle of the offensive. 

Shamira, still attached to the marble pillar, watched the Devil reach the top floor. Disgusted, the 

The woman faced the demon, who looked away to contemplate the battle. Upon noticing his presence, the 

necromancer remembered the conspiracy, so often mentioned by Ablon, and unraveled what had happened. 

passed. It was then that he saw the Prince of Angels climbing the steps, carrying with him the general 

defeated. 

Dragged by the armor, Ablon's throat was slit. I lost blood by the liter, in a prelude to 

painful death. His face was pale, cold, and his body was weakened. But, right at the gates of 

extermination, his eyes were still shining, and he insisted on squeezing the Fire Scourge vigorously. 

Shamira wanted to help him, but she was immobilized from arms to legs. Your vocal spells don't 

would affect enemies. 

All the sorceress's tricks were exhausted, and she relived the trauma of King Nimrod's court. THE 

The Renegade Angel's greatest fear was forgetting his ideals. The girl, on the other hand, feared uselessness. I wasn't afraid 

to die, he never had, but he regretted losing his dream, his desire to have, someday, the general at his side. 

side. 

Miguel violently threw Ablon against the base of the marble column, between the necromancer and the Wheel of Death. 

Time. As he fell, the metal of the golden breastplate cracked but withstood the impact. 

— Shamira... — moaned the renegade, at the feet of the chained sorceress. — I have always been your protector. 

I wish I had failed to defend my own life and saved yours. 

She tried not to cry, so as not to hurt her friend even more, but the tears insisted on falling. 

through the face. The heart trembled at the memory of the cave on the mountain, of the farewell in Babylon, of the 

days in Rome and medieval times. They were definitely linked by true love, which 

divine feeling that leads to the Creator. 

They were in love, and always had been, since the day they embraced in the cave, but only then 

They recognized the passion that united and completed them. They weren't proud, just inexperienced in the 

matters of the flesh, despite his fantastic abilities. 

And there ended hope, the desire for a future life, far from darkness. Throughout its existence, the 

general had preserved his beloved, so that one day he could have her in peace. And the sorceress also dreamed of 

a time of lights, in which he would embrace his beloved and walk with him eternally. 

But the end had come, in a bitter outcome. Ablon was on the precipice of death, and Shamira 

would be sacrificed. The Enchantress of En-Dor remembered her dialogue with the tyrant Michael and the Book of 

Life. Was his entire journey recorded in the sacred tome, as the monarch maintained? The fate of 

two, hers and the renegade, was it written from the beginning of the universe? 

And if they were, why would they have fought? 

On the mountain ranges, General Varna observed the combat, with a bow in her hand and an arrow in her finger. With the 

As the battle unfolded, the archers maintained their positions in the mountains, assisting the soldiers 

rebels with occasional arrows. They could not fire any more volleys, at the risk of hitting the enemy. 

companions, engaged in a fierce fight. The priority targets now were meticulous, and the warriors 

they sought to overthrow squad leaders. Thanks to their deadly strikes, the rebels overcame 

the besieged and made a profitable attack. Soon Zion would be in ruins, or so the people thought. 

insurgents. 

That was when, with precise eyes and powerful vision, Varna saw the opportunity for victory within reach. 

of the arrow. From the top of the rock, he saw the spire of the tower and recognized the archangel Michael, circling 

of the Wheel of Time. He also saw a second obscure entity, which he did not identify very well. 

If he could, from there, target Miguel's heart, the wicked would lose their leader. And even an archangel 

would succumb if pierced in its vital point. Distance, for her, was not a factor — she had already 

punched enemies to much greater extents. Furthermore, the prince was unprepared, oblivious to the 

his attack, and would not dodge the golden projectile. 

Without waiting, she took aim, but waited for the moment. Thousands of angels, friends and adversaries, 

they obstructed the line of fire, while they fought on the outskirts of the fortress. At every moment, a 

combatant passed in front, making it difficult to adjust the aim. 

Then a gap opened, and she shot, with all her skill. 

The sacred missile traveled like thunder, towards the heart of the sovereign. 

But, as Michael himself had once said, he was an archangel, a giant, the first of the 

heavenly, the firstborn of God. He had fought in Primeval Battles and defeated ancient gods. It was the most 

oldest and strongest of living creatures. 

With his sense of danger heightened, the tyrant crouched down and unfurled his wings like the expansion of a fan. 

The razor-sharp feathers, known for maiming like steel, cut the arrow in half with speed. 

impressive. The golden projectile was split midway — a fragment embedded itself in the ground 

from the terrace, and the other was lost on the battlefield. 

At the sight of failure, Varna took a step back, devastated. She had never missed a shot and didn't know how to react. 

Revolted by his boldness, Miguel picked up a spear from the ground, the weapon of one of the wounded soldiers. 

"These rebels don't learn their place," he grumbled. 

— It was the one with the bow in her hand — pointed out Lucifer, who had seen the assault best. 

And so, the Prince of Angels threw the spear, without worrying about the obstructions. The harpoon tore 

the wind, piercing dozens of angels along the way, but not stopping their run. Put 

Finally, it reached its destination, destroying the celestial archer's metallic mesh and piercing her body. 

Varna fell rolling down the cliff, and his blood gushed onto the rock. 

An officer came to help her, but it was too late. 

The fighter had died before touching the cliff floor. 

The Curled Flag 

When all the leviathans were lined up, close to the bank of the Styx, Samael signaled for the 

ships stopped. He ordered a subaltern to bring a package from the hold and unroll it on the deck — it was 

the standard of the archangel Michael, attached to a silver rod. 

— This is the pennant with which we will signal our allies — he explained. — It will be carried by a 

flag bearer, on the front line. 

—And how did you get this object? — suspected Baalzebul, a disgusting creature, with a face like a 

fly and insect body. The dukes were always ready to demoralize the serpent, but he was 

skillful with the tongue and quick with the mind. 

— It was given to me by the Son of Dawn in person — he replied. 

—But with that the question continues — insisted the executioner Molloch. —As the Dark Archangel 

Did you acquire this flag? 

— Soon you will be able to clarify your doubts directly with our master — maneuvered the snake wisely 

of Eden. 

Molloch did not reply, and the matter was lost. The counselor resumed the instructions. 

— Take control of your hordes now. Line up on the ground and in the air. And then we will have the 

drums. 

The boat ramps lowered, and millions of demons came out of the holds. The dukes armed themselves to 

the battle, but Samael remained in the bow, near Mammon's corpse. 

- And you? — asked Asmodeus. — Are you coming with us, or will you remain on the ship? 

— I will be with you, but not before cleaning up this filth — he replied, referring to the remains of the 

overpriced 

A horrendous spectacle then took place. The serpent, like a giant anaconda, opened its mouth and 

put the massive Mammon's head in. It began swallowing the deceased, as its snakelike forms 

Pasha stretched to support the dead man's carcass. Upon noticing the attitude, even the sadistic and depraved dukes, 

they felt a pang of disgust and turned away from the toxic saliva that was leaking onto the deck. 

In seconds, the entire body was devoured, flesh and bones disappearing. Samael got up. Your silhouette 

it had grown in height and width, and its contours would only return to normal when all the food had been digested. 

The hordes began pouring out of the ships, like hungry locusts. Immediately, they assumed their 

positions, as ordered by their captains. 

Like the rebels preparing for battle, the demons also set up ranks and columns in the 

air, because many of them could fly, but not all. 

In the first row came the elite units, made up of satanic knights, in armor 

complete. They guided skeletal animals, which flew with fiery paws. And even trotting in the sky, 

where there was nothing but the howling wind, there was the sound of heavy hooves, like a herd 

running on the firmness of the earth. 

The second row was reserved for the most despicable fighters, the slave spirits, selected for 

execute the injured enemies, shot down by the special troops. The appearance of these monsters is 

similar to lions, jackals or vultures, but hairless, with dried flesh and furious eyes. 

In the third row the regular soldiers advanced: the malikis, the warrior devils. They carried tridents, 

but they made good use of their fangs and claws when threatened. Their countenance was grotesque, and they drooled with 

cholera. Strong and vigorous, they used to swing their horns and tail to terrify their opponents. 

Finally, in the fourth and last row, were the irregular forces, formed by infernals of all stripes. 

castes, united by the desire to kill, pillage and torture. Along the celestial mantle, riders with spears walked 

long, mounted on flying beasts, just like the beast of Lilith, the late succubus queen. 

The dukes, who coordinated the action, walked to the plain and stopped near Mount Megiddo, the 

Mountain at the End of the World, to establish the strategy. 

— There is a mountain range that surrounds the fortress — Baalzebul noticed. 

— A rebel detachment is spread out on the rocks — Molloch saw, looking at the mountains. — 

They must be spearmen or support fighters. 

—It's the archer regiment — Alastor recognized. — A certain Varna commands the division. Yeah 

favorite of the archangel Gabriel, and his right-hand man. 

— Let's fly over the stone circle — proposed Mephistopheles. 

— We will be struck down by the golden arrows — protested Bael the Unhappy. 

— Not if we send the slave spirits ahead — Asmodeus decided, maliciously. 

—But what about demons without wings? — Molloch reacted. 

— Let us order them to climb the mountains and occupy the position of the archers. 

— They will die by the thousands — commented Orion —, pierced as they climb the slope. 

— That's why they were summoned — Asmodeus recalled, and the fallen supported their plan. 

At the bow of the flagship, Samael, fat as a crowded sack, raised his scaly arm. 

And the drums rolled. 

In the heights, around Sion, the warring angels held back their blows and stopped suddenly, upon hearing 

the infernal percussion. The fighting, the arrows and the chases stopped, to the sound of the drums. 

satanic. 

The attention of the winged ones turned to the plains to the north, before the mountain range, where a stupendous 

An army of euphoric devils took up position, close to the banks of the Styx. There were hundreds of millions of 

soldiers, who came out of the black ships and filled the sky to the height of the stellar veil. 

All the celestials, attackers and besieged, trembled, even the most fearless, before the hordes of 

monsters. As for the rebels, they were strong in body and wise in spirit, and they soon swallowed their fear. 

— These are the hosts of Lucifer — exclaimed Baturiel, the Honorable, to General Shenial, his companion 

field. —What are you doing here and how did you arrive so suddenly? 

— Leviathans — replied the friend, seeing the large boats anchored in the river. — I thought I just 

existed in legends. 

— There are many — replied the Honored One, upon noticing the multitude of demons. The diabolical divisions 

they far surpassed the number of the two angelic armies combined. 

— And who will they support? — asked Shenial, but he already knew the answer, and when he imagined it, terror ran through him. 

the spine. The rebels, under no circumstances, would establish friendship with the Devil. The defenders, 

however, accustomed to perversity, they were wicked enough to accept support, even more 

in a difficult time. 

On the front line, a knight from hell carried, open, the standard of Lucifer's hordes. To yours 

On one side, another rider carried a closed flag. 

The two celestial parties waited to see the banner raised and know for sure who the satanic people were with. 

would form an alliance. 

Samael, the Serpent of Eden, crawled onto the deck, still numb from the food. From there, he saw the 

Tower of a Thousand Windows, saw the combat stopped and glimpsed the black cloud that topped the bastille. He 

I didn't know, but that was a mark of Lucifer's presence in the fortress. 

— It's a night suitable for infernals — he hissed, sensing the presence of his cursed master.