Michael-kun and the Holy Sword

Somewhere, far, far away, outside of space and time...

"Wow! The King of Heroes is doing some crazy things! Don't you think so too, Alaya?"

"Indeed, for a mortal, he is proving to be a force to be reckoned with. Well, this is pleasing for sure! Some piss-weak fight wouldn't constitute a great show! Finally, I, I mean we can just sit back and have a good time, without worrying about an-"

Alaya was interrupted by an alarm from her phone.

"Huh? What's the matter, Alaya?"

"Hold on a second, I'm checking... oh shit, I knew it was going to happen... Michael transformed."

"Who?"

"Michael Smith."

"... who?"

"The one who accompanied them to the house of Monet!"

"Ah, the one who dragged around his corpse while in a vase! That funny bugger!"

"Yes!"

"Well, what's the matter?"

"He transformed into what he truly is meant to be."

"Which is?"

"The archangel Michael."

"Oh... that archangel Michael?"

"Yes, that Michael."

"... well, I still don't see the problem."

"What do you mean, you don't see the problem? He became something akin to a Divine Spirit!"

"Oh, really? But still, you shouldn't worry so much... Gods can only exist as vessels and they are a shadow of their former self. They have been like that ever since... what, 20.000, 30.000 years ago? Yeah, when that little punk attacked them... gosh, what was her name..."

"Seraph."

"Oh right, Seraph!"

"Anyway, you're right about this for the most part, but you're wrong in this specific case... firstly, he isn't a vessel, he IS the archangel Michael. He was simply suppressing his true self before. And secondly, heavenly beings like him haven't been weakened... on the contrary... his very existence is capable of disrupting the entire world."

Michael's wings fluttered slowly and gracefully like a griffin swiftly swimming through the breeze. He emitted a radiance worthy of a star as he stayed peacefully still in the middle of the kind desert wind that gently caressed his skin while he smiled in response.

"I can see you, pitiful creatures who are being controlled by the ill-intentioned, and I release you from every charm. Now you can go, free as butterflies, no, free as men, on your merry way. You're free once more." The angel spoke quietly, not a hint of anger or agitation in his voice.

The men looked at each other confused, unsure of what they were doing there, then they remembered everything, and they realised everything that was needed. They looked up and gently bowed at the splendid being. 

They did not believe in him, nor his master, and yet, faced with the reality of his beauty, they couldn't help but recognise the valiant figure in front of them as something much greater than them.

"You mustn't kneel in front of me, I am but a guide to you. You are the ones that matter, you are the powerful ones. I am simply a tool, a face you can regard as similar to yours, a smile that can put your mind a bit at ease, a hand that can show you a way with fewer perils."

The men believed him, but the giant attempted to defy him. He had nothing in his heart of the idea of peace, he who legends had assigned the role of the destructor, he who wandered around desolate lands with his brother without ever having a home, he who would side with the great dragon at the end of times.

He wished to destroy that bizarre and ineffable creature.

"You, wretched beast, although I pity you, I can see that I cannot remove the evil that your soul harbours, for that was cultivated by you and you alone. I shan't allow you to harm these innocent souls that stand close to you and that can see what you are blind to."

The gentle words of the angel couldn't get through the giant, who swung his sword towards the light, however, before the blade could hit anything or anyone, it disintegrated into a million particles. The giant reached out his hand to crush Michael, but he began fading away too, as his hand discorporated, then his arm, along with his legs, and his face, until nothing remained of evil.

 Somewhere far, far away...

"See that? That's what I was concerned about."

"Holy shit! He's busted!"

"Yeah... you could say that... he can vanquish everyone who possesses the smallest of bad intentions."

"So basically, unless you're a literal saint, you have lost to him before you can even fight him?"

"Pretty much."

"Wow, so is he even stronger than the most powerful Heroic Spirits?"

"Let's put it this way... he alone could give a Beast a hard time."

"Yeah, that's unfair. We have to do something about this."

"Luckily, I accounted for this when I created this world. When I said that his presence defied the very existence of this world, I meant it quite literally. The entire fabric of reality is fighting for control with his existence, and since we control this tug-of-war, we already know the winner."

As the men watched in awe the spectacle before their eyes, Michael smiled at them gently and invited them to return to their homes, and they obliged.

"Now, I will go and help Nero and the others, I have lost enough time here... h-huh... w-what's going on..." 

Michael's eyes widened as he felt his entire being targeted by an indescribable force as if it was being forced out of his very essence, erased from reality. His whole body started collapsing, though it would be more correct to say that it bleeped in and out of existence, sometimes leaving some parts behind. He was no longer wanted by that world.

A world painted in the grayness of humanity couldn't allow such a blinding white to exist.

"What a shame... there was still much I had to do... but every second... it gets harder and harder... to even be here." Michael concluded as his serene smile left the place to a slightly dismayed expression.

"Nero, Artoria, Claude, Gilgamesh... are they fine? I can't leave them like this... without being of any use... those who accepted me as human... who looked past my flaws... and my holiness alike. I must... help them... no, I want to... help them... not because that's my purpose... but because that's what I like... I guess I'm not that good of an angel, am I, Father?"

He concluded, letting out a light chuckle.

Somewhere in the middle of another, much bigger desert.

An old, almost archaic figure prays, surrounded by nothing but his loneliness and isolation. And yet, he is not alone. He has the most companions out of all humans. He can hear them, see them, feel them in their hearts, and connect with the ones in the sky.

He feels something, like a ripple in space, slowly creeping up behind him, disturbing his eternal peace. He turns, with no hurry and no laziness, and looks at the cause of that movement.

"Greetings to you, Great Saint. O founder of the Church, I have come to see you and to ask."

"What do you seek to see and demand from a humble servant like me, Splendid Archangel?"

"There's no fancy way to ask you this... I am in a bit of a hurry and I need my sword back."

"You shouldn't have asked me this."

"I know. I apologise."

"I would have relinquished it to you without the need of a tongue."

"I wouldn't be at peace with myself if I didn't ask for your permission. *falls to his knees* though perhaps I should have followed your advice, since I'm on borrowed time."

"For the archangel Michael to sacrifice himself for someone... if I may, I hope that this person is as great as this action would indicate."

"But isn't my sacrifice greater if it's not for someone particularly virtuous? Many men and angels would gladly offer their lives for the exceptional... but to sacrifice yourself for someone unexceptional, that is what the meaning of selflessness truly is, don't you think, Saint Peter?"

"That's what my heart was hoping. Farewell, good angel. Show your light not to the stars, but to the dimly lit candles, so that they may shine as bright as you."

Michael reappeared where he was before. His body was now riddled with holes, and the pain of an existence that was not desired, not even by the world itself, was starting to become unbearable.

But he bared it. For the sake of others, for the sake of those he viewed as companions, as friends, as people who needed hope, he bared it. He lifted his shining and burning sword, with which he commanded the legions of Heaven, and raised it to the sky.

In the golden city of El Dorado...

 "Now what is he going to pull out?" Cortés wondered as he saw Gilgamesh summon a new item from his treasury.

It was a vase that was closed.

Cortés decided that he had to hold out until the army of El Dorado reformed, and then he could retreat, perhaps even blow up the city as a last resort. He activated the cannons and gave the order to the archers to shoot once more.

The defense systems around the King of Heroes stopped the projectiles that came from the cannons and he opened the vase, unleashing a powerful wave of wind that blew away all arrows.

Now, finally, with a clear opening, Gilgamesh let loose a powerful bombardment of weapons towards the temple. The weapons broke through the shields, swords and armours of Spanish soldiers, killing them one by one.

"We have to retreat! Let's fall back to your kingdom through the underground pathways!" Cortés said to Agrippina, who nodded with a concerned expression. He created an opening that led them underneath the top of the temple and Agrippina entered it.

"What are we going to do once we have escaped?" Agrippina asked as she turned around when suddenly the opening that led up closed.

"As if I would depend on a treacherous harlot like you! I'll escape now while my troops hold out, and then I'll rally soldiers from the kingdom of the East! I'll tell them that the Queen died in battle and I'll kill the khan myself. From there, I can replenish my forces and perhaps lay low for a while. I underestimated how much of a monster the King of Heroes is!"

In the nearby desert...

"O divine light, o great miracle, I call forth thee, I pray thee, show the non-believers the spark of righteousness, allow them to witness the radiance and warmth of hope, let them gaze Heaven!

My name matters not, for it is said in a thousand ways in a thousand tongues, but make them remember the name of the sacred torch I hold out to the sky! Let them witness the miracle!

Sing Heaven's treasure,

GALADRIEL - Sacred Light that Descends from the Heavens!"

Cortés had turned around and was about to jump off the temple and run away, when from the sky everyone could see a giant golden radiating sword forming, before suddenly crashing down and splitting the temple in half.

A strong light blinded everyone present at the scene. When Gilgamesh opened his eyes, he could see the top of the temple completely destroyed and no signs of Cortés ever existing.

He looked toward where he thought the attack had come from, before turning back and walking toward the underground of the temple, not before saying softly:

"Good job, foolish angel."

Michael smiled.

"What an honour, to be recognised by the King of Heroes himself. Well, I guess I'll be able to head out of this world with a smile. Thank you for everything, guys. Good luck and have a safe trip. Please, never forget to smile... and to follow your light... to... follow... hope..."

As Salter ran through the desert, she saw a golden glimmer rise up to the sky.

And even though she knew nothing of what had happened, she knew that something, no, someone shining so brightly...

could only be an angel.