The Fallen Angel

Metatron found himself in the air once again per the request of the Seraphim of Judgment.

Reinforced by her hellfire, he was able to move his wings and take flight once again.

He felt stronger, stronger than ever! Much stronger Gently wrapped around in bright radiant flames, his body was reinvigorated instead of burning to a crisp.

'I can easily fold my yesterday's self in half with this power!' Metatron marveled at Uriel's ability's enhancing potential.

And it made him realize the power gap between the number of wings.

'Holy heaven, I'm going as fast as I can but she doesn't look like she is trying at all! So this is the strength of a seraphim…'

Metatron was an archangel, meaning he had 2 pairs of feathery wings.

Uriel had 6 pairs, meaning there were 3 more ranks between them.

Angel ranks went on like this; angel, archangel, power angel, dominion angel, virtue angel, and Seraphim angel.

In order to ascend through the ranks, an angel has to cultivate their cores like any other species. The more their core is developed, the stronger their innate ability will be.

Metatron glanced at Uriel. Her 12 wings flapped harmoniously, creating a pattern of divinity.

Inspired by the visage, Metatron decided to try even harder.

'Her hellfire purges the filthy and strengthens the pure right? That is right up my alley then, as Metatron The Pure. I need to go faster, I can't slow down her like this. I need to harness the flames.'

He closed his eyes and activated his unique skill [Purity]. The world went black as thousands of white dots appeared on it like stars in the sky.

He concentrated on one white dot in particular and Metatron could tell that was himself.

The white dot's shape was irregular as it kept shifting, mirroring the movement of the flame blanket around him.

He gave his focus to the white flame and tried to absorb it with his core.

The flame was Uriel's and he had no control over it but with it currently enhancing his body, he felt like he could absorb a bit, even the smallest fragment of it.

Uriel did not try to stop him. Either she didn't care whatever happened to him or she was too occupied to think about him.

The smooth flame wrapped around his body shrunk a little as his core absorbed some and immediately he could feel the effects.

His body felt hot as newfound energy rushed through him. He felt itching on his back which he had already experienced once before.

An inevitable smirk was plastered on his face and he thought to himself. 

'I have broken through the bottleneck of archangels! Can't believe I am finally a power angel!'

As the name sounds, evolution to power angel greatly boosts one's attributes and Metatron experienced it right then whilst being aerial.

The back of his shoulder blades still itched and it seemed that the wings would take a bit more time to manifest but Metatron didn't care right now. 

He fully enjoyed the sensation of growing faster and stronger every second and the enhancements from the flames grew as well.

Uriel noticed his growing speed as well. She took note of it to talk to Michael once she got her chance.

Metatron used his [Purity] once again and scanned the wide sky for that one impure being.

While other angels showed up as white, it had the color violet. This was the reason he had found him.

'It didn't move from it's spot? Does it want to be found? Isn't it a little too arrogant? Wait till a fricking seraph shows up on your face!'

Under the brilliant sun, the duo flew without slowing down, not even for a little bit.

Uriel always maintained a respectful distance of 4 meters between them no matter what to not interfere with his flight.

However, as soon as a black silhouette became visible under the blinding sunlight, Uriel whispered to Metatron to go and immediately quintupled her speed.

She accelerated like thunder and arrived in front of the fallen angel.

His looks hadn't changed at all except he seemed older and the feathers of his wings had decayed and turned black.

"Sup. You are… Uriel right? Holy god, you look so grown up." He smiled at her, causing nothing but pain and anger.

He still looked small as always. With a height of about 130 cm, thin limbs, messy brown hair, and amber eyes, now tainted to black.

"Who are you and how dare you defile the image of the archangel of humility and kindness like this!?" She roared and swung her sword at him.

"Whoa! That's fast!" Seraphile managed to squeak before narrowly ducking the horizontal cut.

"That's wrong. I didn't teach you to attack anyone on sight, regardless of anything!" He cried out.

"Also, why are you so strong? What is up with the number of wings on your back?"

Her eyes gained a rageful blaze and hellfire covered her sword. "Shut up! Stop impersonating Seraphile! You are not him!" 

Seraphile seems to have been shocked by that answer. He momentarily froze in place and asked;

"But I am me though? Are you denying that I am not me because my wing color is now different? That's the last thing I would expect from you."

"No, you are not him!" Tears ran down her face.

"Seraphile was killed by Lucifer! I saw him all chopped up!" She sent another slash directed at him but never at full power. 

"I am still alive, don't you see? I wasn't killed and why would Lucifer even want to kill me in the first place?"

Seraphile was getting desperate. Seeing Uriel so distraught like that put him over the edge.

'How, how do I convince her?' He sought answers.

"If you are him then why do you reek of demonic magic!? If you are him then use your divine magic! Your barrier that could block almost anything, cast that magic right now!" Uriel shrieked.

This finally silenced Seraphile. He looked frustrated.

"That's enough, Uriel." A commanding voice boomed, causing Uriel to stop her charge of attacks.

"Michael-" Seraphile tried to say but the words couldn't leave his mouth.

He looked at his hands and his wings then stammered as he tried to convince Michael.

"I-, I swear Michael, I am me despite the thing I became. You, you have to believe me." He pleaded. Tears blurred his eyes and he could only hold his breath for his answer.

"I understand brother." The same voice sounded again but much closer, prompting Seraphile to look up.

"Michael…" Without further ado, he went and hugged his brother.

"Welcome back," Michael said softly, trying to hide the fact that his voice was starting to crack too.