Thirteen

Abaddon, the second in command to the Sin God of the underworld looked around the hospital in steep abashment. It seems as if he was turnilently lost in a maze quite capable of squeezing him inside it's mana and attempts to retrace the room in which the girl lay seemed futile.

Abaddon was confused.

He felt like he needed to gain greater perspective, to take a step back and see the wide angle version of this horrid compartment. There was a lot more to see, little wonder he could not figure where he was.

Because people see truth from different perspectives, their narratives of the same events are often completely different. Confusion is that time when a humanly conscious brain cannot process it but the human subconscious can.

To the human mind, it would be advised to take it easy.

Give it time.

Have a nap.

Clarity comes with patience and time.

Wisdom is slow to develop, like a good old fashioned photograph.

But not Abaddon's mind.

All it was moulded to think of was to kill.

To destroy.

To conquer.

To overcome.

His thoughts were never supposed to be good. But instead of those attributes to manifest in Abaddon, fear took over.

His eyebrows were pulled up and together, too tightly to the point that space between them seemed futile. His upper eyelids were pulled up, and his lower eyelids were outwardly tensed and drawn up in an impossible way. His mouth was stretched and drawn back, exposing teeth his outwardly teeth. Vertical wrinkles appeared between his eyebrows, too scared themselves to disappear.

He felt like a human being lost and trying to find his way back to his Father.

But his case was his Master.

Why was this place so humongous and annoyingly collodial?

Has it sucked his Master dry and reduce him to a mere victim?

Has this big wickedness overcomes His Master?

No.... His Master would not let this humongous building barter him. There was a reason He was named Sin God.

This building was sin itself and it had to respect His Master. It would not kill Master Asebia.

Instead, it will reverence him and make him comfortable.

But still, he had been on a search for his Master to report the great news of the girl's safety and lucky survival. Thinking he could find him, he set out to uncover the hidden mysteries of this building but now, it seemed the mysteries had uncovered him.

Abaddon turned again with a surprisingly annoyed reaction. For his face to morph from the fearful male to a rather annoyed psycho was incredibly tantalising.

His eyebrows were now lowered and pulled closer together. His eyelids became squinted and eyes bulging in a fit of rage. His lips were now tightened and curled inwards.

The corners of his mouth were pointed downwards. His jaw were tense and were jutted forward slightly. Vertical wrinkles appeared between his eyebrow, nostrils flaring outwardly.

Curse these annoying walls! If he could not find His Master he would bring the building down. He was not know to be patient. His eyes were a deep red as his fingers elongated.

He was a subordinate evil spirit at enmity with God, the Second in Command to the God of Sin himself.

He did not get the title for no reason. He earned it.

"I see you are quite ready for destruction Abaddon"

That was enough to calm the raging beast down. Despite calming down, his outwardly form still remained. He turned to the soul who dared face him in his moment of wrath.

His eyes widened as he snarled at the annoying soul.

For standing before him was none other than Phanuel, the angel of repentance.

Abaddon's eyes squinted in utter vexation. Of course his beauty even blinded a demon's eyes.

"We meet yet again Abaddon" A silky voice said.

Abaddon growled as he noticed the smirk on the Angel's face. Oh how he wished to snatch it away from his face. His beautiful face housed the smirk pretty well and his long black hair cascaded down his back, reaching his thighs.

Beauty can only be a moment in time that captures the heart and there are so very many ways to achieve these emotional sparks.

The Angel was outwardly beautiful.

It is not a surprise he was actually an angel.

Why would Phaniel be lurking the hallways of this building?

"Why comest thou to me?" Abaddon said, likely growled as his eyes shone a deeper red, ready to fight this beautiful creature in front of him.

The Angel Phaniel in His bountiful grace crossed his spotless yet hairless pale arms as the smirk still graced his beautiful features.

"Battles we fought for centuries. Thou hast not craved enough demon?" The Angel asked.

"Till the human race is conquered by the underworld, battles we shall fight" Abaddon answered, his horns slowly growing out of his head.

"This art a human dwelling. Leave I say and take thy Master with thou. I shall not repeat twice" His smirk finally ceases to live on the Angel's face as a scowl forms.

"What if I sayest nay?"

"Then thou shalt face the wrath of the Almighty God"

The Angels's eyes shown light blue as he draws his does from his shaft. That was when Abaddon noticed the Angel's dressing. For he was dressed in a white cloak.

A white cloak that could warm a human, yet within it a chill could be possibly felt. The yarn is from the mountain sheep of the north and the fleece lining too in heaven.

The cloak silhouette in the dawn rays created a strong form, as if the head itself were carried upon a pillar.

And this was their appearance: they had a human likeness, but each had four faces, and each of them had four wings. Their legs were straight, and the soles of their feet were like the sole of a calf's foot. And they sparkled like burnished bronze. Under their wings on their four sides they had human hands.