The Sixth Trumpet « The Battle Begins Part 2

End of Hope 

Ablon was faint, almost dead, when he heard the drumming. With one hand, he squeezed the 

Scourge of Fire, and with the other he tried to lean on the marble pillar. Attached to the column, Shamira 

I watched, useless, the suffering of the warrior angel. I didn't want to admit that they were wrong in pursuing justice, 

so it seemed more comfortable to accept that his fate had been set in advance. 

— Here they come, my boys — rejoiced Lucifer, always theatrical, upon seeing the hordes of hell. 

He squatted down and spoke to the renegade: 

— You have to see this, general, it's a spectacle. 

Ablon coughed, with the bleeding already advanced. 

— Don't... don't die now. Not yet. Not without contemplating my army. 

Miguel, with his powerful muscles, grabbed Ablon by the armor and lifted him up, so that he could see, 

from the terrace, the host of monsters. It was when a demon knight, still on the plain before the 

mountain ranges, unfurled the flag, and on it was engraved the symbol of the besieged — the heraldry of the 

Prince of Angels. 

The alliance had been declared. 

Outside the fortress, the wicked angels saw the banner, and one of their commanders shouted: 

— They are with us! — as if blessing the help of the beasts. — Keep fighting. Destroy the 

rebels! 

With renewed vigor, the besieged took up their weapons again. A few, with redeemable hearts, 

They hesitated at the prospect of fighting alongside the infernals, but most didn't even care about the 

identity of their saviors. They sought only triumph and the power that derives from it. 

Considering the turn of events, any army would have retreated, but the rebels did not retreat. 

They were prepared for death, ready to face any opponent, whether angel or demon. 

— Hold position! —Baturiel cried out to the rebelling legions. — Raise your swords. Proceed to 

war. They are just imps, against whom our blades are always sharp. 

The confrontation in the tower resurfaced, while the Satanists flew towards Zion. 

"Your uprising is over, general," said the Morning Star. —The Brotherhood of the Renegades 

failed, and so did the new rebels, who embraced his ideal. Tonight, my hordes 

will exterminate the insurgents. Gabriel's aura has faded, and soon yours will die too. From the 

sorceress we will take the soul, and thus the Wheel of Time is completed. The seventh day comes to an end, and there is 

The sacred kingdom begins. Human beings have contaminated their ideas. And then what did it become? I feel in 

your skin the smell of clay, the aroma of decrepit matter, the stench of the animals that destroyed our 

planet. 

Miguel, who was grabbing the general by the collar, dropped him onto the wheel, and the blood spilled out, covering the 

mystical markings on stone circle. But, incredibly, there still remained, in the prince's eyes, a 

spark of lucidity, a spark of righteousness, non-existent in the heart of the Dark Archangel, corrupted 

for evil. 

— I think, finally, I admire your bravery, Renegade Angel — said Miguel, surprised by his actions. 

own words. -I'm also a soldier - and that was, in fact, what Lucifer never actually was - and 

I know the impetus of combatants, the ardor that calls us to battle and makes us accept the great 

challenges, like one day I faced the ancient gods. But understand, finally, that the course of 

The seventh day was always drawn up — and, having said that, he showed the hero the Book of Life. — The fate of 

world was determined by God, at the beginning of creation, and recorded in the pages of the tome — and the 

archangel opened the volume, allowing the cherub to view its last pages. — Nothing that 

doing would change that. We are pawns in the divine plan, and we will continue to be until the end of the 

Apocalypse. But when the cycle is finished and the fabric falls, it will be us, Lucifer and I, who write 

history, as supreme deities. The will of the Most High is immutable, unshakable and irresistible. 

— That's enough, Miguel — said the Son of Dawn, displeased with his brother's piety. — Let's go 

say a minute of silence for our rival — he joked. 

And, at the ominous sound of the drums of hell, the general lost consciousness. In your hands, the Scourge of 

Fire slowed to crackle as his fencer faded. It was a sacred relic, one of the five 

swords forged by Yahweh at the dawn of the universe, and had never been extinguished — until now. 

As for the sorceress, her tears had already dried. He had lived for years cultivating an ideal love, just to 

see, in the end, his beloved guardian die. If they were both earthly, she would have followed him to the 

dead, but Ablon was an angel, and the celestials are soulless and know no other life than 

of existence. When they perish, their aura becomes pure energy, spreads and returns to the flow of the cosmos, like 

a star that expires in the sky. 

On the pinnacle of the Fortress of Sion, passed out on the Wheel of Time, filthy with blood and sweat, he passed away 

the spirit of justice, the messenger of hope, the protector of the Enchantress of En-Dor, the one who took her from 

of despair and taught her how to live. 

In response to the fighter's last breath, the Scourge of Fire's light extinguished, and its steel grew cold, as 

what is the heart of the warrior. 

And so Ablon, the First General, leader of the renegades and icon of the new rebels, died. 

The Persistence of the Generals 

On the battlefield, the hordes of hell were already very close to the mountain ranges — the circle of 

mountains that embraced Zion. The rebel archers, originally positioned there to target the 

fortress, turned towards the plain towards the Styx and began firing, sending down a hail of 

arrows at the infernals, who had declared their support for Michael's wicked legions. 

At first, the dukes thought that sending the slave spirits ahead would protect the knights. 

flying golden arrows, but they were mistaken. So powerful were the archers that the arrows 

They pierced the body of the imps, one after the other, and only stopped when they found the elite soldiers, 

who had moved to the second line of attack, fearing deadly jabs. Thus, pedestrians, 

summoned to death, they constituted a useless barrier and disappeared like smoke when hit 

by the projectiles. As a result, the special troops also fell, with the missiles that pierced the 

armor. 

But, despite their dexterity, there were many demons, which filled the landscape from the ground to the heights. To the 

arrows would be insufficient, and the celestials finally decided to put their bows aside, take up their swords and 

retreat closer to the tower, joining Baturiel's forces, who were fighting hand to hand with the 

besieged, already practically exhausted. 

With that, the great satanic army flew over the mountains, entered the defense perimeter of the 

fortress and joined the party of evil angels. His assault was like a blaze of smoke: 

dark, alive, that screamed and roared. 

Then began the greatest battle of all time, marked by the strength, resistance and heroism of the 

rebellious angels, who withstood the stupendous attack with energy. Of the great rebellious generals, 

including Baturiel and Shenial, few had fallen. Full of fury and heat, they encouraged the fighters, 

who slashed and killed with indescribable bravery, against all possibilities, human and divine. 

Thus, they would resist for a long time, but not eternally. 

In the distance, fat Samael walked down the ramp of the flagship. The boatmen returned to command their 

ships, which would then proceed, empty, to another place. 

The drivers had been hired to take the demons from Sheol to the ethereal, but it was not arranged 

a way back- because Lucifer didn't plan on returning to hell anytime soon. For him, it was 

guaranteed the triumph, which is why he dispensed with the return service on the leviathans. 

So, having fulfilled what was agreed, the boatmen commanded their incredible vehicles, continued 

along the bed of the Styx and disappeared over the horizon. 

Clumsy due to its excessive size, the Serpent of Eden crawled towards Sion, where the hosts 

were already fighting. 

— It's over — sighed Lucifer, fulfilled. He looked once more at the battle and looked longingly at the 

sorceress hanging from the column. It was not a carnal desire, as he had once felt for Lilith, but a 

cosmic appetite, which only the girl's soul could calm. He took off his golden breastplate and laid down his 

sword of fire, the Ray of Dawn. — I don't need these cheap accessories anymore. I will be God, 

briefly — and turned around, walking toward the trapdoor. 

—Where are you going, my brother? asked Miguel. — We have work to do — and indicated the necromancer. 

— I'm going to encourage my boys, show myself in the field, encourage my soldiers. Put 

meanwhile, we have to wait for the signal of the Seventh Trumpet and the total disintegration of the tissue. You can 

sacrifice his wife, if he so chooses, but he must guard his soul — some celestials have the power to 

hold the souls of the dead, preventing them from going to heaven. —Do not allow your spirit to escape into the 

heavenly paradise and enter the house of the saints, east of Eden, from where not even we could recover it. 

Your human power will only finally serve us when the membrane falls. 

The Third Heaven, called Shehakim, is the heavenly Eden, a land of wonders, reserved for the 

righteous. In this layer are the spiritual colonies, which receive the souls of the virtuous for the eternal 

rest. Superior communities are guided by saints, ancient prophets and masters 

disembodied. The greatest of these sages is the Savior himself, born as a man in Nazareth and died 

on the Roman Calvary. So enormous is the strength of the masters that, in their colonies, not even archangels penetrate 

without permission. Some say that the archangel Raphael, tired of the wickedness of his brothers, went into exile 

in Shehakim, teaching the righteous many remote mysteries, prior to creation. 

The Morning Star went down the stairs, leaving the terrace, and returned to the Hall of Portals, then 

walk into an obscure corridor, from where he would have a clear view of the battle. 

Miguel, the Winged Sovereign, remade his face of hatred, his most natural facet. He took it back from the hem 

Flame of Death and wielded the mystical blade. 

Shamira was about to be executed. 

Baturiel against Mephistopheles 

When the enemies clashed their weapons, the dukes also joined the battle, together with 

its beasts and monsters, with the exception of Orion, the Fallen King of Atlantis, who had disappeared at the beginning of 

offensive. The satanic lords even considered his death, because he was not one to run away from a fight. 

They felt the loss of their strategic mind, and the absence resulted in the extermination of entire hordes, which 

They lacked adequate command, a general who could indicate effective tactics and show the troops the 

appropriate maneuvers. Satanis was a master of warmongering, a knowledge he had perfected 

millennia, during the Mediterranean Wars, the ancestral confrontation between Atlantis and Enoch, the two 

greatest human civilizations of old, before the great flood. 

At the heights, the courage with which the rebels simultaneously confronted both the soldiers and the soldiers was remarkable. 

from hell like their heavenly adversaries, sympathetic to the archangel Michael. But, unfortunately for the 

winged wicked, the assault of the demons was crude and chaotic, which, in a certain way, complicated 

the besieged legions. This lack of discipline proved precious to the insurgents, who maintained their 

warriors in line, and safely withstood the clash of the beasts. 

Mixed in the confusion, Mephistopheles and Baalzebul flew, cutting and tearing the rebels apart. 

Mephistopheles, also called Mephisto, was an excellent swordsman, and carried a fine saber, 

but indestructible. He looked like an ordinary man, strong and imposing, but with skin of fire, wings of 

bat and a large horn that bent backwards. Baalzebul, the Prince of Flies, was a 

abominable monster. The humanoid body was covered by an insect shell, hard and greased with 

a disgusting slime. The wings and face imitated the anatomy of flies, with compound eyes and hair on the back. 

boca. 

— We have to nullify the courage of the rebels — said Mephistopheles to the insect demon, who 

glided in the wind. 

The Prince of Flies pointed to Baturiel, indicating that he was the leader of the army of the righteous. 

— And the one who coordinates the revolutionary legions. 

— I'm going to take him down. Come with me, but stay hidden — and he shot towards his target. 

Thus, Mephisto arrived before the Honored One, hovering in the air with his wings outstretched. Brandished his rapier 

with a thin blade and faced the rebel commander. 

— I am Mephistopheles, Duke of Hell, Lord of the Zanathus and King of the Flaming Sea — he announced. 

with. 

— And one of the fallen — recognized Baturiel. — I remember the time when I was an ishim, in paradise 

celestial, before the war in heaven. 

—Accept, then, my invitation to a duel, to a fair dispute, without stratagems — summoned the infernal, and the 

The angel could no longer refuse, because he was a warrior, and his code prevented him from retreating from combat. 

announced. He even felt rewarded for confronting a supposedly loyal devil, as he had heard that all 

Infernals were cunning and tricksters. 

The two moved, prepared for conflict. The swords scraped, struck, bumped, released 

sparks, and the duelists faced each other like lions. Many imps stopped to watch and paid 

with life through distraction. 

Baturiel was winning, but Mephisto kicked him in the stomach, pushing the commander away. THE 

celeste recovered and awaited another attack, but then she heard an insect buzzing that 

peeked from behind. He turned without delay and saw the Prince of Flies, who was flying stealthily, ready to attack. 

attack him. Pressured in both directions by powerful rivals, the Honored One drew a mystical dagger, which 

he kept it in his boot, and threw it at Baalzebul, hitting him on the forehead. Then returned to position 

previous and tore the belly of Mephistopheles, who was trying to attack him in the heat of the turmoil. 

The Duke bent over in pain and had his head cut off, in front of the astonished hosts. 

On the opposite side of the fortress, Shenial defeated the executioner Molloch, but the sinister Asmodeus killed 

two rebel generals. 

And, even with an excessive number of enemies, the rebels fought on equal footing. 

Lucifer left the terrace, crossed the Hall of Portals and went down to a wide and empty corridor, whose wall 

north was open, giving view of the battle. He stayed there for a few minutes, hidden, praising his own 

intelligence. 

— How beautiful! And it's wonderful! — he rejoiced, opening his wings and preparing to take off. I was going 

appear to his fighters, but stopped and decided to wait, retreating into the darkness of the porch. 

Despite his decisive triumph, the Dark Archangel felt weakened. He himself sacrificed part 

of the energy of his aura to hire the leviathans and, although he was not devastated, he was weaker than 

the usual. Among the demons, he was the only one who could have saved the boatmen, because only someone so 

powerful would have enough essence to request the giant ships. 

His power would soon return, but for now he needed to double his caution and ensure that the dukes 

not discover their current condition. The satanic aristocrats he commanded were cunning and 

treacherous, and could try to turn against their master if they knew of his weakness. Tired, Lucifer 

would be able to deal with any of them, but not all of them at the same time. 

So he waited a little longer. He would only present himself for combat at a safe moment. 

The Cave on the Mountain 

Suddenly, as if in dreams, Ablon was back in the cave on the mountain, his sanctuary. 

particular, the mental refuge to which he retreated whenever sadness overcame hope. It felt 

numb, as when awakening from a deep sleep. 

He was as cold as a corpse, motionless and unresponsive, when a warm hand clasped his arm. Opened the 

eyes and discovered himself in the center of the cave, lying on the lap of the Enchantress of En-Dor. Challenging all 

logic of space and time, the necromancer dressed as in ancient days, pure and natural, and the only 

The perfume she gave off was the delicious scent of her lovely body. But how could the renegade have 

returned to the past, except in the midst of the delusions that precede death? 

He tried to stand up, but his muscles stiffened. The bones looked more like twigs, fragile and brittle. 

Not even his heart moved. He was little more than a corpse, unable to move a single limb. 

Then, the girl smiled, with affection and sensuality, and the terror disappeared. Bending over the bust 

of the dethroned general, she stroked his battle-beaten face and looked at him with joy, 

cultivating the love already sown. She stroked his golden hair and ran her fingers through his beard. 

poorly done, until you find your lips cracked. Then, she brought her face closer to his and kissed him intensely. 

When the woman's soft mouth touched the hero, heat filled the cave, reviving the carcass. 

inert and recovering the burning in the frozen heart. The blood began to flow again, and the chest throbbed 

again. In a brief second, his entire life flashed through his memory, from the light of his birth, 

at the beginning of the universe, to his tomb in the pinnacle of the tower. 

Assailed by passion, then heightened to its maximum, Ablon no longer distinguished the real from the illusory. No 

I was truly sure about what I was going to do or where I was. Perhaps he was still in agony, stretched out on the 

Wheel of Time, because there is no redemption for failed celestials. 

He sat by the fire and realized that there were other celestial entities in the cave. Around you, like a 

precious circle of guardians, there were all the renegades, honoring the general with their swords 

shiny. In the flickering light of the fire, the general recognized the deceased Ishtar, the brave Hazai, and the valiant 

Yarion, among others. The brotherhood was gathered, with its eighteen warriors, with white wings fluttered 

of blood and insurmountable courage. 

And, in the center of the purged, a special figure stood out, due to his sublime essence. The archangel 

Gabriel guarded the exit, with a calm face, a haughty posture and a determined expression. 

"They're all here," Ablon groaned. —The Brotherhood of the Forsaken and the Angel of Revelation. As 

Could they have escaped death? 

— For us, the winged ones, death is the dispersion of the spirit — explained the Master of Fire — but our 

energy is indestructible. We are no longer individual consciousnesses, but a single power. Now we live 

in your mind, and our strength will make your aura rise. Our sacrifices will lead you to victory. 

— This is the value of friendship — said Hazai. — And the support of the world. 

— Trust in your ideals, general — urged the beautiful Ishtar — and return to the battlefield. 

And, with the support of his old friends, the warrior revived himself for battle. The right arm was boiling, but 

it didn't hurt him. In fact, it only elevated him. 

On the top floor of the Tower of a Thousand Windows, under the freezing wind at the top of the earth, Prince Miguel 

He pointed his sword, the Flame of Death, at the heart of the Sorceress of En-Dor. Sacrificed, your soul 

it would be stolen and converted into pure energy, to satisfy the archangels' greed. Born in Canaan, there was 

Many years ago, today there was not a single mortal who surpassed her in power and longevity. His spirit was 

strong and ancient, and thus attracted the greed of his murderers. 

Ablon's body remained stretched over the Wheel of Time. The Scourge of Fire lay within reach. 

hand, but its blade was then just an icy plate, an ordinary steel weapon, without its flames. 

fantastic. 

It was when, in the darkness of the cloud that covered Zion, the miracle occurred. On the renegade's arm, above 

From his wrist, a scorched mark lit up, in the exact place where the necromancer had touched him in dreams. THE 

The inscription heated up, like a sign engraved with iron. The blood, spread in pools on the floor, began 

a slow return to the corpse, in an unbelievable demonstration of mysticism and strength. The trail 

red that stained the stairs rose back to the wound, and even the torn throat regenerated, until 

all the blood flowed back into the carcass. 

A rune shone on the general's forearm - the rune of the body, engraved by Shamira in the high ritual. 

magic, and which aimed to prevent the destruction of the warrior, during his visit to hell 

Lucifer's invitation. The peaceful encounter had not required the spell, but it would remain active until it was 

took the life of his protégé. And now, in surprising circumstances, the enchantment came into effect. 

action, restoring the general to full health and making him fully recover his celestial abilities. 

In response to the hero's rebirth, the Scourge of Fire ignited in sacred flames. The cherub 

he inspired, expanded his wings and remembered Gabriel's words, which had encouraged him to take the sword in hand. 

a moment of distress. 

Upon hearing the click of steel, Miguel immediately stopped what he was doing and turned to the Wheel of 

Time. What he saw was absolutely not acceptable for someone so fatalistic. 

The Renegade Angel stood on the circle of rock, completely recomposed. Your vital essence 

had ascended, multiplied and exploded to the level of the archangels, supplanting the aura of the unattainable 

they pull. 

At first, not even Ablon fully understood what had happened. All 

Wounds healed, strength returned, and senses were as sharp as ever. He looked at his fists, 

half in disbelief, and began to see and hear new things. A pleasant melody flooded your 

ears, and he understood that this was the sound of nature, the incredible movement of atoms and particles, 

living and dead, who kept the universe flowing. Around him, he saw angels in battle, before 

fast, fighting so slowly that it would be ridiculous to beat them. This was how, he imagined, Miguel should 

notice his blows, during the duel in the Hall of Portals. 

Initially worried about Shamira's salvation, Ablon struck the Flame of Death to disarm 

the Celeste Prince and prevent the execution of the sorceress. The enemy could not resist the attack, and his blade 

escaped his grasp. The weapon rolled across the courtyard floor, leaving the sovereign vulnerable. 

— What I see cannot be real! — protested the surprised Miguel, denying his primary instincts. — 

Just now he was devastated, finished, defeated by the conspiracy. How could he have returned from the pitch black? 

infinite, with such magnificent energy? 

— I don't fight alone — warned the general. — The brotherhood, the archangel Gabriel and the 

En-Dor Enchantress. It is their strength that revives me. It was the love of justice that brought me back. 

Now, take your sword. My code prevents me from facing an unarmed opponent. 

So, still shocked by the extraordinary prodigy, the prince picked up the weapon from the ground and equipped himself to 

new fight. But as soon as he brandished the relic, the renegade advanced and attacked him with all his might. 

will, demonstrating invincible celerity. 

An enormous rumble shook the pillars of the world, shaking the planet's foundations. Followed 

a luminous explosion, which dazzled the pinnacle as the sparkling blades clashed. The tyrant trembled, 

surpassed by the splendor of the Reborn. 

— The Creator predicted your death and my ascension! — shouted the archangel. — The Book of Life is 

unquestionable, it is the Almighty's record for the destiny of the world. Do you dare defy Yahweh? 

Ablon tilted his head, lamenting the giant's ignorance. 

— Who am I to question the Father's memory? But who are you to rewrite your words? THE 

Book of Life is not a compendium of universal history. It is a much more unique mystical artifact, 

designed for the minds of the righteous and made to deceive the wicked. The tome does not describe the fate of 

world, but only our desires, our ambitions, our most secret desires, that's why your 

content is uncertain. I discovered the mystery when I read its pages, before I perished on the Wheel of 

Time. You and Lucifer so desired divinity that you preferred to trust the writings and use them 

as an instrument to justify unspeakable evils. By deceiving themselves about the future, they dived, 

both, in dementia, and are now blind to the truth. 

The sinister Miguel, despite the situation, resisted accepting the most obvious arguments. He frowned 

eyebrow and swung the sword over his head, ready to return the greatest harassment. I was so right 

of his fate that he did not recognize the mistake, even after seeing his plan fall apart. I would fight fiercely 

to defend his belief, with the same courage with which he had defeated the gods of darkness, at the dawn of 

eternity. 

— If that's so, then tell me your desires, outcast — he challenged, searching, in desperation, for a flaw. 

in the logic of the renegade. —What was written in the tome, what did you see with your fugitive eyes? 

In response, Ablon said no word, but instead attacked with formidable skill. And, equipped with 

complete vitality and dexterity, he left no defense to his opponent, who succumbed to the edge of the blade. Miguel 

He even tried to react, but the renegade was now faster. The Scourge of Fire descended like a 

incandescent comet, shattered the armor and struck the giant's heart, putting an end to his years 

existence. Crouching down to penetrate his stab, the general replied: 

— The pages of the book said... that I would be your murderer — he concluded, pulling out the sword embedded in his 

enemy's chest. — For me, the end of the story ends the mission of a lifetime. 

— Even if you finish me off, your army will never defeat the hordes of hell and my legions 

phenomenal — spat the archangel, pierced by the Scourge of Fire. 

— Fights are not only won by brutality, but also by virtue — taught the Reborn. 

— Where there is righteousness and justice, there will be victory. 

A spurt of blood leaped from the prince's chest, silencing his breathing. Ablon stood there, 

unshakable, absorbed in the final scene, imagining what the giant had thought, surprised by the devastation of the 

cultivated illusions. 

Still alive, Miguel stammered: 

- I'm dying. How can it be? — his face lost all arrogance. — General, can you 

save? 

— I tried — replied the warrior angel. 

— Ablon... — called the prince, at the fatal moment. — I want you to know something. I want that 

know. It was all out of love. 

— It was all out of jealousy. 

— Still, for love. 

Pale as a flower thrown into the desert, Miguel glimpsed the ancient days, the times of glory that 

preceded the light, the age of splendor before the dawn of man, when he flew with the Father and his brothers 

by the shadow of space. He understood, with his last breath, that he didn't want to be God just because of ambition, but 

also to recover the brio of the universe of yesteryear. He craved divinity not just to govern 

fully, but to feel, just once again, the presence of the Creator, who had so dispersed the 

spirit, in sacrifice to human beings, who inherited their soul from him. 

In the end, the archangel just wanted to see the Most High again, or prove his supreme strength. 

The Prince of Angels died with his eyes open, staring at the emptiness of the sky. 

The Master and the Apprentice 

In the wide corridor overlooking the battle, Lucifer analyzed the combat, hidden by the darkness of the room. 

porch. While screams, shouts and cracks resounded outside, inside the fortress there was silence. 

sepulchral. All supporting legions, initially assigned to remain inside the tower, had 

left earlier, before the arrival of the leviathans, to massacre the rebels, but they found a 

bad luck. 

Supported by hordes of monsters, the wicked angels fought again with all their might, but even 

Thus, they did not reduce the rebels, who continued to defraud their enemies, whether celestial or 

beasts. The greater the number of evil warriors, the greater the determination of the insurgents, inspired 

by the ancient renegade heroes. Within the circle of mountains, the devastation was astonishing. Around the 

Fortress, all that could be seen on the ground was a carpet of bodies - the remains of severed soldiers, 

mutilated, torn apart and pierced. Crushed armor and broken weapons still gleamed, 

while the ground drank its share of blood. 

In the mountain ranges, the infantry demons, devoid of wings, were already taking up positions before 

occupied by archers, on the peaks and slopes. There they fixed their flag, but the dispute was far from the 

end. If this continued, the two armies could fight for many days, months or centuries, without 

emerge a winner. So, convinced of the pertinacity of the rebels, Lucifer decided to finally act. 

He would command his fighters and soon end the conflict, now that many dukes had already fallen. 

Isn't this, after all, the Creator's desire, recorded in the Book of Life?, he thought cynically. That I 

quickly win the battle and establish my throne on Tsafon, the Mount of the Congregation, next to the 

great Miguel? 

The Morning Star gathered up the hem of his tunic and climbed onto the wall, ready to take flight and launch himself towards the sky. 

war field, but he sensed an aura rising from the dark. I already knew, or thought I knew, the 

identity of the attacker, and retreated to the shed with a cheeky smile. Could still have fun 

disgracing the bold visitor. 

Aziel, the Sacred Flame, emerged from the darkness, with palms of fire and a face full of wrath. 

He had recently separated from his mission companions and followed alone along the angelic paths, to 

find the renegade, who had not yet returned to battle. He had hopes that Ablon was alive 

Still, that's why he had been reluctant to burn the bastille previously. 

Lucifer looked contemptuously at the Sacred Flame. 

— Aziel, ruler of the Citadel of Fire — he sneered, referring to his duties as ruler 

of the fortress. — What a stimulating surprise! 

— Since when have demons been sneaking around the halls of Sion? — the ishim got angry. You black people 

hair reflected the flames of the fists, which rose in a thin stream. 

The Black Archangel wrinkled his forehead, concealed. 

— Now, I thought that, for the rebels, both the infernals and their celestial enemies were of the 

same wicked strain. 

— Now I see so — Aziel knew that neither Lucifer nor anyone else would penetrate the fortress without his help. 

consent of the archangel Michael, except by force. The Devil was not seen from the outside, forcing 

the passage, so he was invited there by the host. — You and the Angelic Prince are allies. 

— Your insight is impressive — he scoffed again. —But what are you going to do? Will you call me to 

confrontation, as your general did? 

- Where is he? In which chamber... 

—Your leader is ruined. He was killed by me in the Hall of Portals and buried in the tower's pinnacle. 

Her body lies on the cold stones of the upper courtyard, and soon the Enchantress of En-Dor will also be annihilated. 

The news hit Aziel deep in his heart, like an arrow stuck in his chest. At first, I wanted to deny the 

warning, reject the speech, repudiate that arrogant talk. But unfortunately, Lucifer could be 

telling the truth — and he probably was. Ablon would not abandon his army for so long. Only 

death would prevent him from returning to combat. 

Aziel's flames roiled, swirling and crackling in a deadly dance. Enraged by the supposed 

murder of his commander and friend, he spared no consequences and attacked without mercy. From the fingers 

it expelled a flood of fire, which lit up the corridor and melted the red floor. Your remarkable energy 

it would burn the sky and bubble the oceans — but would it be enough to defeat the Devil? 

The Dark Archangel stopped the incandescent jet with his hands, which reflected on the pillars, without much effort. 

power. He had weakened, however, in holding back the attack, and staggered back, although not injured. No 

He would so easily resist another assault, but he made himself appear invincible. 

— Your strength is growing, ishim — he acknowledged — but you forget that, in addition to all my 

attributes, I am also an expert in the province of fire. My flames lightened the darkness of hell, 

when in the basement there was only darkness. So I don't think you're in a position to face me. Go 

away, and I will spare you this fight. 

Aziel found the enemy's mercy strange, but he couldn't really defeat the Devil. Not alone. 

If Lucifer decided to use his power seriously, he would be crushed. On that occasion, however, the Archangel 

Sombrio preferred not to demonstrate his skills and save his energy for his performance in the disorder of the 

front — that's why he had opted for the threat, intimidating the ishim, instead of crushing him outright. That's when one 

The third character entered the fray to break the impasse. 

First appeared, sprouting from the shadows, a pair of wings of fire. Then, the bright tears shone, 

like burning drops of oil dripping onto the floor. Amael, Lord of Volcanoes, Aziel's former master, 

appeared on the scene. 

Amael was a passive, conforming demon who did not seek power or revenge. Therefore, Lucifer 

He allowed him to reside in his cave, and sincerely enjoyed his company. Always reserved and 

submissive, the Lord of Volcanoes never contradicted his leader, and so the Devil chose him to take him to 

Sion, confiding his plan. Hidden in the inner chambers since the beginning of the war, the zanathus 

he now resurfaced, in the presence of his satanic master. 

Aziel, more sad than scared, lamented the sentence of his reformed mentor, who had fallen into disrepair. 

hell. His face would be the same if it weren't for the boiling tears. He wore the same celestial armor, but 

rusty, and the heart was pure melancholy. The executioner of the flood was an unhappy, repentant creature, 

grieved by her past sins. 

— There you are, Amael — congratulated the Dark Archangel, relieved. — This is definitely a 

fortuitous encounter. Do you remember your pupil Aziel? 

The Lord of Volcanoes said nothing in response to his boss's excitement. He was very reserved and lived 

sunk in his own memories, trapped in depression and tormented by remorse. 

— I'm sorry, little one, but I'm leaving — Lucifer teased, facing the Sacred Flame. — 

I don't have time for your childishness anymore." He slid towards the window and spat out an order at the door. 

dark zanathus. — This is your dispute, Amael. Put an end to this insolent angel now. 

And so, assured of his majesty, the Morning Star shrugged, turned on his heel and opened his 

bat wings, ready to escape through the balcony. 

— I can't do this, Lucifer. I refuse — dared the Lord of Volcanoes. —If you want to kill- 

it, then do it. I'm fed up with your authority. 

The Devil raised an eyebrow and turned to the porch, indignant. His subjects did not call him 

by name, only by solemn titles. Lucifer could not be questioned, absolutely, under circumstances 

so decisive. Victory lurked ahead, and it wouldn't be an imp that would keep him from consecration. 

— And for a short time, Amael — he insisted, trying hard not to waver. — We are very close 

of the end, close to exterminating these detestable rebels. Triumph is imminent — and he looked at his servant with 

all the hardness in the world. — Don't be a fool to disobey me now. 

But the Lord of Volcanoes would not be persuaded once more, as he had been at the time of the inventive 

revolution against the archangel Michael. He no longer cultivated illusions about Lucifer's honesty, whom he 

supported in remote times. I had reached the limit, and it is in this state that the cornered advance and the 

fearful people become heroes. 

— You are weak, Morning Star. He lost his aura by handing over part of the essence to the boatmen, 

hiring your services. 

The Devil retreated, trembling. A horrible thought arose in the depths of his mind, and he chose not to 

consider it. He armed himself with bluff, which was his most effective weapon. 

— Weak or not, you're still an insect next to me — he added. — It would never put me down, if at all. 

has a duel in mind. 

— Alone, certainly not — he replied, suggesting connivance with Aziel, who until then had only observed the 

conversation. — I also tasted the price of travel on the Styx, and I knew how tiring it would be to summon the 

leviathans. So I took him to the boatmen. 

- Betrayal! — reacted the Dark Archangel. It was obvious that Amael had premeditated the trap, although Aziel 

unaware of the prior intention. By weakening his master, the Lord of Volcanoes would have the chance to confront him. 

it. 

— No, Lucifer — he replied, indomitable. — It was you who betrayed me, by inventing that damn thing. 

revolution. He lied, engineered the war in heaven and used me, Orion and the others as guinea pigs in his 

cosmic experiment. He fostered hatred for the renegades and forced us to kill our brothers. Now, 

ask me to eliminate my only disciple! 

Nervous, Lucifer stealthily slid his hand to his waist, searching for the hilt of the Dawn Ray, but he 

had left it on the top level. He was also without armor — not that it was much help. 

now. 

— Amael, listen to me carefully. You will do what I say. We can clean up this mess, give 

a new beginning for everyone. And you will help me. The two of us, together. 

Aziel was silent. He knew that this was a critical moment for his master. The Lord of 

Volcanoes had to challenge Lucifer alone, find his own redemption. I could even help you, but 

The final decision needed to be his. The Black Archangel stiffened. 

— And if you insist on defying me, Amael, I'll have to kill you — he made an evil expression. - It could 

destroy it with just one look. 

—True" Then why are you looking for your sword? 

Aziel smiled in the darkness. I didn't take any pleasure in it, but it was ironic to watch Lucifer 

in that situation. Soon he, who had always played the role of executioner. 

— You monsters, unfaithful pigs! — he shouted, trying to intimidate them. — I'm going to finish you off now 

even, you insignificant worms. 

— You can try — Aziel warned — but if you haven't noticed yet, this is an execution court. 

Chastened, the Devil joined his hands and appealed to supplication. He knelt down and forced a tear, but the 

executioners were insensitive to crying. The Son of Dawn would not survive the two adversaries, if 

they decided to submit it. 

— I only wanted the good for everyone, the satisfaction of men and angels — he assured, begging forgiveness, but 

his oratory was incoherent. 

— Enough with the slander, Morning Star — Aziel intervened, irritated. He was tired of his petulance, and 

Now he had no more doubts about the redemption of his master, Amael. — Your whining does not absolve you. 

— Give me one more chance! 

— You had every chance. 

- No! — the Dark Archangel despaired. — Miguel! — he shouted, summoning his brother. — Miguel! 

— he sighed. 

— The Prince of Angels has been killed — warned Amael. — The First General shot him down. 

— The Renegade Angel? It can't be! I myself... — he choked before confessing to the murder. 

He had ripped out the warrior's throat moments ago. How could I have revived? — I can feel an aura 

powerful at the top of the tower, the aura of an archangel. This means Miguel is alive. So, how if 

dare... 

— What you feel is not Miguel's aura, but the essence of the Reborn — explained Amael, to the 

joy of the Sacred Flame. So, Ablon remained unharmed and triumphant! 

— Reborn? What madness is this? — Lucifer seemed completely out of control. — Spare me, 

Amael! You are not a murderer, you never were. Why are you doing this? 

— Since the flood I swore not to kill innocent people. I lived for millennia with the weight of guilt, silent, like 

a volcano that hides its fury. Today, I spit my hatred, copying the eruption of the great mountain. I the 

I sentence you to death, Devil, for the seriousness of your crimes and for your persistence in error. 

— Think of the fair angels, Amael — he sobbed. — They wouldn't sentence me to summary execution. 

— I'm your child, Lucifer. I'm a cursed, a demon. I'm also perverse," he declared, justifying 

his unexpected attitude. 

At that moment, all gloom was banished from Sion, as master and apprentice ignited their aura 

pulsating and consumed the sentenced with bursts of fire. A burst of flames went through the window, and 

its impact caused the fortress to tilt. In the side section of the Tower of a Thousand Windows, the exhausting heat 

it softened the pillars, and all the rock melted into volcanic lava. 

Lucifer put his palms together in front of his face to defend himself, using all the power he had left to 

repudiate the attack. He had managed to stop Aziel's assault, but now not only fire, but also 

spits of magma hit him. His heart accelerated when he finally understood that he could die, 

who was being defeated! Hands and arms began to melt, the white tunic caught fire. Felt the 

he smelled his own flesh burning, and a mass of lava stuck to his face. The beautiful hair 

laurels disintegrated, and one of the eyes withered. Violence tore the membrane of bat wings, 

all that's left is bone. 

The shock wave threw the archangel beyond the warehouse, and he plummeted, devoured by the heat. 

scorching. Their screams startled the soldiers, who saw a smoky trail in the sky and 

avoided the trajectory. 

Lucifer did not die quickly. He screamed as he fell, cried, coughed, struggled, unable to fly. 

Due to the smoke, I could no longer breathe. Nobody helped him. Nobody recognized him. 

The Son of Dawn fell into the deep cracks of the earth, a filthy hole where the 

fallen celestials. It was there next to the corpses of the defeated angels, the defeated demons, the 

slave spirits. His body was a disgusting mess, without arms or wings; the fabric of the clothes stuck together 

to the skin. Lucifer perished as a pauper, in a mass grave, groaning and begging for help. 

Dangerous Legacy 

In the upper courtyard of Sion, Ablon freed Shamira from the tight shackles and hugged her tightly, 

wrapping its body with fluttered wings. The sorceress's skin was cold from the sharp winds. 

that altitude. If it weren't for its conservation charms, which protected it from the cold, among other things 

dangers, the necromancer would have already frozen. She was human, after all, and did not have the exceptional 

resistance from celestials and demons. 

The battle was still fierce, and the general knew he had to return to the legions, but he was sensitive to his heart. 

and reserved a moment for the couple. 

— The rune of the body — whispered the woman, stroking the hero's forearm. — I myself had 

forgotten the spell's assignments. 

The magical inscription, marked deep into the renegade's flesh, was gone, disappearing his 

fantastic properties. As the necromancer herself said during the execution of the ritual, the enchantment only 

it would work once, keeping the warrior away from death. And so would the rune of mind, which 

it would preserve the brain from any psychic changes, such as attempts at control and forgetfulness. That 

second mark, unused, remained engraved on the cherub's left arm, like a tattoo. 

discreet. 

—The Prince of Angels was defeated by the intelligence of a woman — declared the general, although 

his skill was equally indispensable to victory. —Without your magic, I would not have returned to 

life. And ironic. Miguel has always despised the artifices of the mortal species. 

Shamira looked at the tyrant's corpse, in his silver armor. Were it not for the wings, sharpened in the 

tip, its carcass would be indistinguishable from those of ordinary men. The eyes lost their shine, as it happens 

natural to the dead, and the face had turned pale from the lack of blood. 

— In death, we are all equal, earthly and winged, demons and gods — he lamented, noticing the 

extinction of the giant. 

— Eternity is an illusion. Do you remember when together we watched the devastation of 

Constantinople and the final destruction of the Roman Empire, whose Caesars were said to be perennial? Like many 

kingdoms of yore, now the last archangel falls. Infinity is just utopia. We too will die one day, 

whether by the sword or by fatigue, as Gabriel showed us. And the time will come when even the 

universe will close its mantle. The stars will go out, and all we will have left is energy, the palpitation one with the 

fluency of the cosmos. 

A colossal explosion ruined the lower floors, starting the fire. Fire and lava were thrown 

into the air, tilting the tower's foundations. Bubbling magma oozed into the levels below, eroding 

the rock walls like paper to the fire. Ablon held the sorceress by the arms, but the pinnacle 

remained stable. 

—The Ishins are incinerating the foundations of the bastille — warned the First General, aware of the situation. 

rebel planning. That, however, was not the action of the insurgent group, but the reflection of the volleys 

scalding fires that finished off the Devil. 

— The dark cloud over Sion has dissipated — noted the necromancer. 

— And Lucifer's aura also went out. The Morning Star suppresses its brightness. Now, who can 

oppose the rebels? 

With the death of the conspired brothers, the wicked angels lost their main commander, and the 

demons weakened the attack. The dukes of hell were no match for the rebellious generals, and 

Of the nine satanic aristocrats, only three remained. The numerous accursed hordes fought frantically, but 

they were massacred by revolutionary legions. The alliance between the two armies had not brought unity, 

just confusion. The beasts attacked directly, making the strategy of the besieged difficult. With the tumult, 

The insurgents won, disciplined in their war tactics. 

Michael and Lucifer succumbed, but they left a dangerous legacy. Alone, they would be nothing, if it weren't for 

fundamental piece of the conspiracy, a sinister entity, capable of accessing the most remote dimensions, 

tear the fabric and ensure perfect communication between heaven and hell. The lackey was also a murderer, 

spy and soldier, and surpassed his masters in hatred, cruelty and sadism. 

The Black Angel, feared servant of the archangels, climbed the steps to the pinnacle, silent as a tiger in the sky. 

forest. He was not defeated, not even injured by the bronze warriors, only momentarily 

excluded from the fight. Ablon had stunned him by entering Sion and facing the evildoer with the Scourge of Fire. 

— object to which the entity seemed to have a singular aversion. If it weren't for the metallic helmet, the criminal would have 

His skull was crushed, but the helmet had saved his life. 

For some enigmatic reason, the black-winged monster was as stealthy as the renegade, and could 

hide his essence, making himself imperceptible to his enemies — when he wanted to. In his hand he brandished 

a sword, ready to stab the general who, with his back turned, had not noticed the trick. 

The killer crept across the terrace like a specter in the night and attacked by surprise, tilting his 

blade to decapitate your victim. But the target was not common. Quick and agile, Ablon sensed the danger and 

he drew his weapon, parrying the cunning attack. Shamira looked away and shielded her vision, so that the 

spark from the shock did not blind her. 

The two wires hit, and the revelation occurred. Just like the Scourge of Fire, the aggressor's sword blazed 

too, but in black flames — sinister flames of hell. The figure in the dark armor had left 

He pulls back his mask, revealing his deformed face. The face, cut from one side to the other by a 

Horrible scar, it was not angelic, much less human — but diabolical. Teeth stuck out of his mouth 

pointed, like the jaws of sharks, and the eyes were deep and black. 

— Apollyon! — exclaimed the cherub, revealing the satisfaction of revenge. — Spare me 

a lot of work," he added, remembering the spirits of Sodom and the promise of 

revenge the ghosts. 

— Apollyon is the Dark Angel — murmured the Sorceress of En-Dor, admired, but the fighters did not see her. 

listened. They stared at each other with indescribable firmness, concentrated like snakes prepared to strike. 

Ablon wasn't entirely surprised. To him, both the demon duke and the Dark Angel were 

wicked, detestable, and had persecuted their companions, which placed them at the top of the list of 

most execrated. The Dark Angel had beaten Ishtar and kidnapped Shamira. Apollyon had captured Yarion and 

had murdered the main renegades - and also Sieme, although the general did not yet know his identity. 

blame. Despite Lucifer's betrayal and the archangel Michael's felony, these were political adversaries, 

and its downfall was, necessarily, linked to the victory of the new rebels. The dispute with 

Apollyon, however, fostered an accumulated, private hatred. And the Destroying Angel also guarded 

a personal anger against the Reborn. At stake was not the outcome of the war or the future of the 

armies in the field, but the reckoning between two enemies had long been deprived of finishing its 

duel. 

Now, the opportunity fell into the hands of the hero, who had been waiting for it for so long. Alert, staying away from 

fight, the sorceress understood that the hybrid nature of the monster guaranteed the concealment of its aura. It wasn't 

angel or demon, but a unique creature, a celestial corrupted according to the will of the terrible 

archangels. 

Normally solid and controlled, Ablon gave in to the rage. The angry eyes lit up in a glow 

red, and his countenance became enraged like that of an agitated lion. Only twice in his life had he tasted 

such exaltation. The first was upon learning that Ishtar was imprisoned in Babel, and the second, upon learning that Ishtar was imprisoned in Babel, and the second, when 

witness the kidnapping of the necromancer. Shamira then realized that she couldn't calm him down. 

Apollyon retreated and struck again, but the Reborn avoided the weapon's cut by crouching, then 

rising to grab the beast's neck. 

Caught by the throat, the Destroyer struggled, choking, unable to maneuver his sword. Furious, Ablon 

threw him away, like a single hand. The satanic beast fell among the soldiers in battle 

like a sparkling meteor, ready to crash into the mountains. So intense was the noise of the 

body launched that the armies in the sky suspended the fight, turning their attention to the falling entity. 

Apollyon crashed into the side of the mountain range, and the impact caused the mountain to crack, but he, nothing 

suffered. His armor was a relic and had absorbed all the violence of the shock. Unharmed, jumped to a peak 

to the side and wielded his blade, summoning the First General to the fight. But, even exalted, the 

renegade could not leave Shamira alone, vulnerable to the fall of the tower. 

— Go! — demanded the woman, understanding her protector's dilemma. — The bastille will still resist for more 

some time," he assured. 

Then all the combatants who could still see, whether they were demons or angels, saw the 

two fighters preparing for the dispute, each at their own outpost. Ablon hovered at the height 

of the Fortress of Sion, and Apollyon stretched his wings on the top of the highest mountain. 

—The First General is alive! — shouted Baturiel to the insurgent legions, pointing to the leader 

rebel in the fortress courtyard. 

— He reached the terrace of the Wheel of Time — added Shenial. — Archangel Michael was defeated 

— there were no more doubts. 

Elsewhere, still on the heights around Sion, Asmodeus indicated to Duke Alastor: 

— There's our missing colleague — he commented, recognizing the Destroyer's disfigured face. 

— He worked for the Celestial Monarch — he concluded, noticing the dark wings, which he had never shown before. 

to his diabolical confreres. — Spy or traitor? 

— Perhaps none of them — urged Asmodeus, reflectively, scratching his chin during the prelude to the fight. 

With each passing moment, the conspiracy became more obvious. Michael and Lucifer were destroyed, and the 

Deathstroke was now the strongest pervert. His power surpassed the power of the damned aristocrats, and 

Among the infernals perhaps only Orion would be in a position to strike him down, but the Fallen King of Atlantis 

he had disappeared at the beginning of the offensive, leaving his hordes in chaos. The troops, evil and just, 

They fought in a draw, and would continue to do so forever, if no event shook them. 

The conclusion was then thrown at the backs of the duelists. If Ablon won, the rebels would win, but, 

If Apollyon triumphed, it would be the beginning of a kingdom of darkness, far worse than that dreamed of by 

Lucifer's sick mind or the insane delusions of the archangel Michael. 

Megiddo, the Mountain at the End of the World 

In the courtyard above Sion, Ablon stiffened his wings and leapt like a preying eagle to meet the 

Destroyer. He was so fast that a trail of fire followed his run, creating a trail 

red in the curvature of the sky. 

But instead of hurling himself at the Reborn, Apollyon turned and flew away, beyond the shadows. 

mountain ranges. He headed north, towards the Styx, and many thought he was fleeing in fear, running 

of the rebel leader, against whom he supposedly had no chance. But Asmodeus noticed his 

real objective. 

"You're luring the general to Mount Megiddo," he told Duke Alastor. 

— The Mountain at the End of the World — rambled the monster. — The prophetic point for the conclusion of the 

Apocalypse. 

On the lower floors, when the floor of the fortress gave way, Amael and Aziel fluttered, flapping their wings and 

they watched the floor collapse, softened by the heat. Shortly afterwards, the walls also fell, 

and they escaped through the balcony, already melted into flames. 

Outside, the noises of battle were suppressed, and so were the blows. Ablon and Apollyon flew alongside 

mount Megiddo, and the three armies followed them. 

— To the sorceress! — the Lord of Volcanoes remembered. —She must still be at the pinnacle. 

— Let's get her out of there — Aziel decided, darting to the terrace. No soldier would stop them. THE 

path was clear. The Tower of a Thousand Windows had been evacuated. 

Ablon and Apollyon landed on Megiddo, a large mountain, with a very broad summit, solitary in the 

terrace, unique in the vastness of the desert. It was reminiscent of a bump, an ominous lump on the skin of the 

world, about a hundred kilometers away from the mountain ranges that surrounded Sion. On the physical plane, this 

magnificent elevation had been the scene of many battles and had housed dozens of ancient fortifications, today in 

ruins. But on the ethereal plane Megiddo was just a sandstone hill, titanic in size, whose top was 

it flattened out in the shape of an arena, an open circle for the final combat. 

The wicked and righteous angels, and also the demons, pursued the duelists and descended to the ground, 

taking positions to glimpse the confrontation. 

At the top of the rock mass, nothing could shake the general's confidence, face to face with his greatest enemy. 

He had already defeated the Celestial Prince. How did Deathstroke intend to beat him? 

— Your tricks are finished, Black Angel — said the renegade. — Its leaders were liquidated, and the 

conspiracy is devastated. This is the time for our adjustment. For so many years, you chased my 

friends and killed many of them. Now I will make you regret your aggressions. 

The monster smiled, disregarding the hero's determination. 

— Well know, outlaw, that I am invincible. As much as you ruined Miguel and even 

surpassed the archangels, I have the Black Fire — and he showed his sword of black flames. — This weapon 

It was given to me by Lucifer, as a gift for my joining the conspiracy. This relic belonged to 

Bahemot, servant of Tehom, one of the ancient gods, annihilated by Yahweh before the making of light. She is 

prior to the creation of the universe and preceded the birth of angels. Your blade is indestructible. Nothing nor 

no one can defeat me as long as I wield it. I will defeat the new rebels, alone if I go 

necessary, down to the last insurgent. 

In response, the warrior raised his Fire Scourge. 

—Then maybe you remember the Scourge of Fire—she challenged him, showing off the burning tip of her sword. 

— And the only weapon that has ever hurt him. 

During the war in heaven, Gabriel, who was unaware of the alliance between Michael and Lucifer, fought bravely 

against the agents of the Devil, and in the midst of the fight he struck the Terminator right in the face with his sword 

effulgent. The scar was still visible. 

Tired and furious, the two rivals moved away and took the distance for mortal combat. Floating 

Beside Shenial, Baturiel remembered the long-gone days when Ablon and Apollyon clashed at the 

Castle of Light. At the time, they were still legion generals, and the only reason they didn't die was because Balberith, then 

prince of the caste, interrupted the clash. 

— Here continues a challenge that began fifteen thousand years ago — his golden armor was covered 

of blood, yours and others. The arms had open cuts, and the wings hurt from the blows they had suffered. 

"To the sword of an archangel or the weapon of a god," said Shenial, referring to the Scourge of Fire and 

to Black Fire. — Who will win? 

It was impossible to pin down the victory. 

The End of the Universe 

Shamira was alone at the extreme point of the fortress, accompanied only by the dead. On the terrace, 

blood reached the heels, and it was difficult to walk without stepping on dead bodies. Despite the fire, the 

The tower was still safe and would certainly hold out for a few more minutes. 

Free from the chains and without wings to watch her, the sorceress preferred to take action rather than watch. 

passive to the duel. He went down through the trapdoor and entered the Hall of Portals, the scene of the trap prepared by the 

archangels to assassinate the rebel general. 

The necromancer stopped at the entrance to the chamber and observed everything around her. I was determined to find her 

the exit and escaping, without help, from the fire that consumed the bastille. 

Ablon and Apollyon reached the edge of the cliff above the mountain, in opposite corners of the arena of 

stone. From there they turned, facing each other, like challengers on extreme sides of the ring. THE 

The tension reached its peak, and then they rushed into battle, swollen with wrathful strength. 

The armies were stagnant, awaiting impact. Like knights in a joust, the titans tore the 

night and faced each other right in the middle of the circle. 

When the two swords clashed, the entire planet shook. The explosion sounded like a shrill chord 

in the fluency of the universe, a screaming note in the symphony of space. A fabulous wave of fire — black and 

red — went down the slopes of the hill, striking the nearest spectators and licking all the 

plain. The smartest ones flew, while the scorching wave scorched the desert floor, 

consuming everything in front of him. 

The most powerful weapons in the cosmos shattered in the encounter, sending boiling shards into the sky. You 

duelists were thrown back, by the violence of the clash, and rolled to the starting point of the fight. THE 

The explosion cracked the armor, which soon disappeared into crumbs. The breastplates disappeared like 

dust in the wind, but they had preserved the lives of both - without them, the bodies of the combatants would have 

been disintegrated, swallowed by the supreme energy of the blades, forged by insurmountable gods. 

The Scourge of Fire did its work, but Apollyon's threats were not mere bravado. On Fire 

Black really was, and always had been, the most powerful weapon ever created, which is why one of its fragments 

resisted. The scorched splinter passed through Ablon's shoulder at extreme speed, pierced his flesh and 

It went out the back, getting lost in the rocks beyond. 

In the Room of Portals, Shamira searched the alcoves, paying attention to the symbols engraved on the doors. While 

was examining the doorposts, he found a curious object lying on the floor: a blackened feather, 

ancient appearance, already curved at the ends, larger than the plumage of birds. Bringing the feather to light, no 

had doubts about who it belonged to. 

This was the feather of Apollyon, given to the First General by the spirits of old Sodom. Ablon a 

she had taken to battle, so as not to forget her revenge, but during the fight against the archangel Michael she 

she had escaped the belt, and now the sorceress found her in the shadows. 

Under normal circumstances, angels and demons are unaffected by ordinary enchantments, unless 

that the sorcerer has a physical element of the entity for the rituals. This was how Zamir had managed 

lure Ablon to the Tin-Sen forest and immobilize him at the entrance to the Roman house. 

Now, Shamira felt sorry for the Destroyer. 

I could do a spell! 

Recovered from the explosion, the two warriors stood up, enraged and unarmed. None of them 

I expected the swords to break on impact, but it couldn't be otherwise. The power of the blades 

it was huge. 

—And now, where is your invincible weapon? — Ablon instigated, without giving the slightest importance to the 

shoulder injury. — You're helpless, damn you. 

— Powerless? And what about you? — Apollyon laughed, pointing to the tear where the shrapnel had penetrated. — 

I thought nothing else could beat him, right? Understand, renegade. Fogo Negro was made to 

exterminate the archangels, and that made him the perfect target. 

— Do you really believe this wound can kill me? 

— No. But now your strength is reduced. We fight again on equality. It's not like that 

rather? 

— I'd rather see him dead. This time no prince will help him. 

— It's true — agreed the demon. — Salvation is reserved for the strong. This is how the 

renegades, without a leader to support them — he provoked. — Thus died Yarion, Windwing. Like this 

Sieme, Master of the Mind, has died. 

— You've said too much, killer — reproached the warrior. — Let's see if you're as good with your fists as 

It's with words. 

They returned to combat, now without the armor covering their torsos. The battle, Baturiel recalled, 

repeated the sequence of the duel at Castelo da Luz, when the two generals fought, throwing away their 

golden breastplates. 

Apollyon shot upward with the swiftness of thunder, as if summoning the Reborn. Ablon 

He followed, and the two climbed high, very high, only stopping when they saw the stars. The cold of space 

It stiffened their bodies, and the general felt that he was bleeding, he was bleeding a lot. The Black Fire splinter does not 

it had only weakened him, but it could still kill him. He would finally be defeated by his most powerful enemy. 

guys, after having returned from death and defeated the archangel Michael? 

But, at the moment when hope fled, the world turned, in its characteristic daily movement. THE 

Sidereal darkness received the glare of light, and the first ray of sunlight appeared in the curvature. 

The challengers flew towards each other, like two rockets colliding. Apollyon punched, 

taking advantage of all the energy from the thrust, but Ablon deflected the attack. Grabbing Malikis by the arm, 

he rolled it over his head and then threw it down. The Terminator plummeted, spinning like a 

hurricane, while the general massacred him with a series of punches. 

As they re-entered the Earth's atmosphere, Mount Megiddo became visible again. 

Apollyon was unable to fly and fell backwards onto the ground, opening a crater on the top of the hill. THE 

The shock crushed its wings, shattering the bones in its back. 

Accelerating, Ablon descended into the ditch and landed already mounted, forcing his knee against the monster's stomach, 

who defended himself, insensitive to pain. The general noticed, from nearby, that the thump had also 

lacerated the beast's ribs, pierced by stone stakes. The blood of the mysterious Angel with Wings 

Negras filled the hole, dirtying the depth of the crack. 

— You're defeated, Deathstroke. Without your sword, it's almost nothing. You will now know the path of 

death. It will depart into the void, and its essence will return to the fluid of the cosmos, from where it should never have been formed. 

Maddened by exaltation, Ablon invoked the Wrath of God. He punched the criminal in the face, but 

the beast dodged, escaped to the side and jumped on the general's back, like a hungry panther. 

The blow failed, and the powerful blow struck the heart of the mountain. During the clash, there was a great 

earthquake, which vibrated the entire hill and threatened to swallow the crater. Ablon tried to fly, but Apollyon 

it was attached to his wings, like a tick attached to his skin. Together, they were almost buried by the 

rolling stones, but a push from the renegade threw them both out of the ditch. 

Mount Megiddo imploded, collapsing from the inside and destroying everything in the sky. The plain tore into 

deep cracks, punishing the esplanade, already devastated by the fire of divine swords. 

The duelists landed on the wreckage, safe, but seeking stability on the imperfect terrain. 

Now the tables had turned, and the Destroyer held the advantage. Wrapping your arm around your neck 

enemy, the demon squeezed the rebel in a tie-like blow. He knew that no matter how hard he fought, 

his assaults would be ineffective against the Reborn, which is why he secretly kept his main tactic 

of war — the final attack that would end the dispute. Ablon had become insurmountable by defeating the archangel 

Miguel, but he would not survive the Terminator's supreme strategy. 

The hero rolled forward, contracted all his muscles, tried to slide down, but he couldn't. 

managed to free himself from the grip. He was the most dexterous of the fighters, he had incredible skills, but he was already 

I had lost a lot of blood. Furthermore, Malikis still had greater physical strength, and used all his 

brutality to retain the rebel. 

— Your maneuvers are useless — warned Apollyon. — How can you act while you are immobilized? 

Based on his rival's position, Ablon realized that he also could do nothing. A single movement 

aggressive would allow the general to free himself from the key. 

— You'll never hurt me — said the renegade. — Let go of me, and let's get back to the fight. 

The murderer paid no attention to the proposal and replied in glee: 

— For you, I reserved my most exquisite weapon — he explained, and continued slowly. — I heard that 

you were very impressed by the way I ruined Sodom and Gomorrah... — there was a delight 

macabre in his voice. — This is my power of total destruction, the power capable of tearing the fabric and 

bring damnation upon the world. 

Total destruction! — the energy that victimized the children of Sodom, the horror that liquidated the two cities, 

he had turned the seas into blood and turned the fugitives into pillars of salt. At the speech, Ablon feared 

for the future of humanity, for the destiny of the earth and its inhabitants. The beast was not only a killer - but 

also suicidal. 

— If you don't let me go, you will die together — warned the cherub. 

— Then we will die. You are my enemy, my nemesis. Our end will mark the devastation of 

planet. This is my vital demand — he revealed, repeating the glosses about his identity. — I am the 

Angel of the Bottomless Abyss, I am the one who opens all doors. I am the light and the darkness, the beginning and the 

end. 

With that, its muscles dilated, and the beast's red blood gained a bluish glow. Ablon 

noticed, with his keen vision, that the plasma atoms were swelling and would soon collide to the point of 

burst, culminating in a luminous explosion. Suddenly, the Destroyer's body looked more like a 

channel, a holding vehicle for all the destructive energy of the cosmos, a receptacle charged with 

terrible feelings, concentrating, within itself, horror and agony, evil and affliction, hatred and cruelty. 

The general did not know where such power came from, or how it was activated. 

There was no more reversion to the process. 

That was the end of the universe, for men and angels. 

"This is How Heroes Die" 

Hurriedly, Shamira returned to the tower's pinnacle, with the black feather in her hand — Apollyon's feather. From there, 

he saw the earthquake devastating the plain, and the two giants still fighting. 

He clutched the feather to his chest and summoned his magic to recite one last incantation. 

On the rubble of Mount Megiddo, then reduced to a hill of unstable boulders, 

Apollyon held the First General in his guard, while summoning the lethal weapon, which would victimize no one. 

just the two duelists, but all mortals on the planet. Immobilized, Ablon imagined what the 

Deathstroke's true role in the conspiracy. Why would Michael and Lucifer have recruited him, besides 

use it as a messenger? He assumed, then, that his supreme ability to destroy was an essential part of 

of the final plan. The archangels had the goal of liquidating humanity after the disintegration of the tissue, and 

Who better to help them than the Destroying Angel, an agent of death, created for carnage and 

attracted by the most violent massacres? 

Apollyon was fascinated by pain and slaughter. Throughout history, he was there, wherever he was. 

there was agony and slaughter. He did not interfere, but he followed from the astral plane the massacres, the wars, 

the hecatombs, the catastrophes. He had witnessed the first homicide, when Cain killed his brother; spy on 

Greek wars, the advance of the Roman Empire, the horror of the Crusades; take a look at the campaigns 

Napoleon and the conflicts of the 20th century. One day in the spring of 1916, he walked across the fields 

entrenched in Verdun, France, at the end of the largest human battle in Europe, in which 

eight hundred thousand soldiers died. Years later, he saw the atomic bomb over Japan and marveled at the 

understand that his power had been stolen by men. I knew then that sooner or later civilization 

It would go extinct itself, but it would be up to him to hunt down the survivors. That was what the Star of 

Morning had called him — the Devil thought he knew the future, revealed in the Book of Life. 

Thus the seventh day would end, with the defeat of the Reborn. 

But Ablon didn't believe in destiny, and what would happen next defied prediction. 

A virtuous and proud figure appeared, flying in the sky, despite its devilish appearance. He wore a 

silver armor, adorned with Atlantean symbols. The metallic vest opened at the back, where 

two feathered wings sprouted, reflected in the purity of the shiny armor. The eyes were red, the 

skin, dark, and beard, deep black. Mixture of man and beast, the Fallen King of Atlantis 

entered the fight, hidden from the beginning of the fight. 

It dived into the air like a hawk, and with its pointy claws it pierced the Destroyer's back, pulling the 

beast back and freeing the renegade. 

—Orion! — the First General was startled. 

—Orion? — Apollyon grunted, as Satan held him by his broken wings, thrusting his 

fingers into the flesh, deeper and deeper. 

— Go away, Ablon — said the Fallen King. — I won't keep him for long. 

The general hovered in front of his friend, still stunned. As a war veteran, his first reaction was 

preserve the comrade, and not run from battle. 

— He won't stop, Orion — he warned, referring to the Terminator and his power of total destruction. — 

Drop him, or you will be immolated. 

The old brother smiled. 

— I do this for our old friendship, general, which not even heaven and hell could erase — and, at the same time, 

noticing the cherub still undecided, he added: 

— My salvation lies in dying in glory, like an Atlantean monarch. Flee, or my sacrifice will not have 

service. You have already finished your mission. Allow me to fulfill mine. 

Understanding that Orion had made his choice, and that not even he could stop him, Ablon 

took off and flew with all speed towards Sion, hoping to reach the fortress in time to 

save the Enchantress of En-Dor. To the indignant cries of Apollyon, who had his demand frustrated, the 

Reborn looked back and uttered one last sentence in tribute to his good companion: 

— This is how heroes die — he whispered, and the words were lost in the wind. 

The Key to the Bottomless Pit 

Seeing his enemy flee, Apollyon decided to pursue him. Orion still held it, but the idle 

satanis would be no match for malikis's enormous strength. If not even the First General had arrested him, no 

it would be the Fallen King who would do it. 

The Destroyer forced the Atlantean backwards, intending to throw him into the air, but he suddenly realized 

that his impulses were no longer that powerful. 

— What happened, Terminator? — asked the bankrupt monarch ironically. — His colossal vigor 

abandoned? 

Desperate, Apollyon kicked, but his magnificent power was gone. He shouted in protest, 

he screamed, and nothing happened. 

As? What kind of energy had weakened him? Who could suck all your strength? 

—Alsi ku nushi ilani mushiti!— said Shamira on top of the fortress, with the black feather in her hand. 

That was the weakening charm, the same one that Zamir had cast on Ablon, at the entrance to the house. 

Roman. 

But now, the target was Apollyon. 

The spell wasn't deadly, just debilitating. In Renegade, the effects were particularly terrible because, 

At the time, he was already devastated by the scorpion's poison. The Terminator would not be victimized by the 

enchantment, but by his own weapon of destruction. 

— It was you! — Apollyon suddenly deciphered. — It was you who freed Ablon from the dungeons of 

Zandrak. 

— Yes — confirmed the Fallen King of Atlantis. — Me and the demon queen. 

—Lucifer saw everything in his domains—he roared, searching for an acceptable explanation. - It is not 

It's possible that this has escaped your notice! 

— Not everything the Dark Archangel could see. Friendship and love... were the emotions that 

they motivated me and the seductress. The Morning Star would never notice our intentions because, for the 

Perverse, these feelings are indecipherable. 

Then, weakened by Shamira's spell, unable to fly with his wings broken and trapped on the ground by 

Orion, Apollyon unleashed his fury, which, once summoned, could no longer be contained. 

Thus, the big explosion occurred. The beast's beating heart ripped open, releasing an ocean of fire and 

shine over the world. On the field, the three armies faced the spectacle, astonished, as the 

cosmic heat disintegrated their bodies. 

The foundations of the planet collapsed, and cataclysms began across the land. Rivers overflowed, 

continents split, mountains collapsed. The ground was punished, and its cracks sucked the seas in 

bowels of the globe. 

Over the rubble of Megiddo a column of black smoke rose, as if the pit of the abyss had been opened. 

— a passage to the nefarious ends of the universe. The ardor burned the entire sky, obscuring the 

firmament and extinguishing the brightness of the stars. 

Submitting the Terminator, Orion was the second to die, followed by the suicide bomber. But, before 

perishing, he had a last glimpse, a vision — not of the future, but of the past. 

As it faded, he saw an island and a city with shining towers, bathed in the morning sun, where 

it was always summer. He saw happy people, sailing the seas and diving in the waves. Glimpsed 

a land of enchantment and wonder, without hunger, hatred or sadness; a country united by love for the Creator, 

but aware of their own capabilities. 

That was Atlantis, the Pearl of the Sea. 

Their perpetual monarch passed away. 

Before the explosion engulfed the bastille, Amael and Aziel reached the terrace of the Wheel of Time to 

rescue the Enchantress of En-Dor. The Sacred Flame held the woman, and the three flew away from there, 

towards the rebel camp, trying to escape the shock cloud. 

But the energy caught up with them, throwing their bodies into the desert.