Chapter 10 : Fighting a man of God

[Author note : New KoSP chapter. The Iron Lad squib is for tomorrow !

If you're interested in my stories or want to encourage me, please check out my Patréon : https://www.patréon.com/user?u=66371596 (replace the é by a normal e) or look for Cathbel on their website

KoSP : 2 advanced chapters

The Squib who became Iron Lad... In DC : 3 advanced chapters

Enjoy !]

Two people stood facing each other on the plains. The wind was blowing the tall grass. The flames danced along with them. All around them, other people, Terrans, Serafs and other races were lying, either unconscious or dead, their blood tainting the greenery, weighing it down. They all wore the same blue and green uniforms and protective gears, the same weapons… And they were all defeated by one man (and a crystal life-form).

One of the people still standing was the cause of this, while the other… sought to avenge them. According to his words, and in his mind, the Preacher did the work of God. And therefore, his enemies were God's enemies. His flaming swords, as well as his blessed flaming wings were signs of this.

As for the other, beside his torn clothing and disheveled appearance, he also sported an enraged expression. But it wasn't because the blazing humanoid chicken had attacked. No, this, he could understand. Even respect… In fact, some part of him thought he deserved it. Feeling pain, be punished. After all he did in his past…

But, this was not the reason why he was angry.

« You. Do. NOT ! Attack. CRYS ! » Simon, bellowed, sending a shockwave in front of him and flattening the grass. The sound soon reached the Seraf who tried to block… only to be thrown away, landing a dozen meters back, barely landing on his feet by flapping his wings. As the Seraf stabilized himself, he found himself face to face with Simon, who brought his arm back before crashing it in his face. Once more, the man was sent flying, rolling on the ground before he readjusted himself.

Outwardly, he didn't seem very fazed by these two attacks as he looked toward Simon and said :

« You are infidels who attack innocents. You do not deserve the mercy of God ! »

« Innocents ? » Simon repeated incredulous. Then, feeling incensed, he raised his voice : « INNOCENTS ? Those… Garbage ? They prey on the people they should protect, kidnap children, rape women, steal riches… And they are innocents ? »

Simon approached a body near him, one that was still twitching and moaning in pain. He grabbed the man by the face, his anger almost pushing him to crush it like a grape… He abstained. Moreover, he could feel the rage producing… something from the palm of his hand. Soon, he, the Seraf and the soldier all knew what it was… Or at least, Simon and the soldier knew.

The man started whimpering and suddenly woke up screaming, pleading for his life when he found himself looking into the merciless gaze of the Terran. The man felt a burning pain coming from his face, like he was on fire, or melting.

« Puh-leaze ! Shtahp ! » The man begged between yells of pain.

Taking a deep breath, Simon stopped the chemicals from being secreted and spoke :

« If you do not want to lose your face, I suggest you tell Hot Wings over there what you guys were doing… »

« We… We were just following orders. »

Containing the rage he felt, the Terran asked, looking him in the eye :

« And what orders were those ? »

Before he could get an answer, the Preacher interjected :

« Do not speak to the infidel, child. Even if you die, know that you'll be avenged ! »

Simon scoffed as the anger in his eyes turned them frosty :

« Even if you're a fanatic, it doesn't mean everyone is… But I guess, the truth doesn't matter to you so… I think I'll kill you, too. »

Simon dropped the man without any further harm. He figured the man didn't serve as a hostage against someone like this… He would be liable to try and cut them both, though he'd only be able to cut one.

« Just so you know… I'm new at this. So… You might suffer an untold amount of pain before your death. »

The Flying chicken took to the sky, his flaming sword at the ready as he posed and declared :

« I am the arm of God. The only person who will die today… is you ! »

And then, he threw himself at Simon. The latter just waited for him to come closer… and closer… Until :

« GET. LOS~T ! » He shouted.

This time, the sonic attack was much more focused, like two invisible waves heading directly at his enemy, expanding as it travelled. The 'angel', because that's how Simon saw him, was caught unprepared. To be perfectly honest, although the fanatic possessed capabilities beyond that of normal men, his brain didn't seem very… effective. A muscle-head, was probably the term to describe him.

Once more, the angel was sent flying and Simon followed him. He dashed in his direction, using kinetic energy to propel himself at a speed impossible to follow with the naked eye. In less than a second, he was standing over the angel who was trying to right himself up… and punched him in the jaw.

As Simon felt his fist make contact with the angel's face, he was surprised how durable the man was. He half-expected to have his brain splattered all over the plains and his hand. Part of him was… relieved. Not that the man was alive : he couldn't care less about that at the moment. No… He was relieved he didn't make a mess.

Thinking of this, he had flashes of his past in the Terran military. The aftermaths of a bombing on an alien metropolis. Corpses spread throughout, peeking from under debris, rivers of blood. He was still out of it when the angel came back for more…

The Seraf swung his flaming sword with an overhead stroke. It just… brushed the Terran, without any damage. It was at this point that he started to lose it :

« How ? This is… This is the Sword of God. You're an infidel ! »

Repeatedly, he stroke and stabbed and slashed. To no avail. The Terran was impervious to the Wrath of God. So naturally, he came to a conclusion :

« You… You're not just an infidel. You're the Devil ! Die, you devil ! »

When he came to and found the man having a breakdown, his emotions now cooled off somewhat, Simon sighed. He took a step forward and grabbed the man's sword hand :

« I'm not the Devil. I'm just… Someone trying to do the right thing for a change. »

« LIAR ! » Finding himself unable to move his weapon or his sword arm, the Preacher started to kick, punch and even head-butt him. Simon ignored the good sensations filling his body with each stroke and slapped the man fiercely, once. When the angel was about to resume beating on him, he slapped him again. And again. And again.

After a while, the man, cheeks red and swelling, lied on the ground, eyeing his opponent angrily :

« You're finished ? » Simon asked apathetically. « Your type is really the worst. Can't talk to them, can't reason with them… You have a narrow-minded view of the world and you think you're always in the right. Well, in some circles, might makes right. And, well… I'm stronger than you ! » Under his breath, he added to himself : « So much stronger it's not even funny… » He sighed and continued :

« I didn't start this fight ! This… band of thug parading as military did ! They were trying to extort a village a couple of… Hm. I don't know how you calculate distance here, or even the unit of measurement… Anyway, the village that way ! » He said as he pointed in the distance. « If you're at all curious, why don't you go and take a look there. Ask around… »

He turned around, without a look at him and finished speaking :

« If you're still raring to go, I could probably go on like this forever. »

And then he approached the tank :

« Let's go, Crys ! »