Portal Keepers

Unknown Regions, Southern Continents, Earth

***

The vast scourge of forestation laid flat on a circular form. At the epicenter of it stood the first rank angel. In front of him was an emaciated figure that was half-dead, half-alive, gasping heavily for air. He was disfigured and with limited movements. The only movement he could exhibit was his chest rising and falling which synchronized with his breathing.

"You have lost, Azakiel. It is time to deliver the final strike," Nethaniel said coldly.

Azakiel did not utter a word but only a faint sound of his weakening breathing. His eyes were semi-closed but still fixated on his executioner.

The corrupted angel had exhausted every energy he had and his life hung in the balance between his inhalations and exhalations of air supporting his futile attempt of reviving. Two or three breaths if unpermitted would end his life instantly.