Legion of Eagles

Cries broke the ethereal silence of the gleaming white halls. The floors rumbled and the walls cracked. Beyond the Golden Gates was a chorus, a melody of weapons clashing and spells splashing.

Arcelius Von Ispios stood guard. His golden white armor gleamed with power. Gripped in his right hand was his named divine longsword, Forbearer. He glared underneath his visor.

Behind him was a wide staircase adorned in gold and marble. Beyond it was his master's being in all its majesty and fragility, hidden inside a box of gold emblazoned with rubies and laced with precious metals.

The vast Heavenly Halls were supposed to be impregnable. It was supposed to provide refuge to those who have done His bidding well. It was where his master's naked self resided.

Yet here they were, fighting a War in Heaven. A war they were now losing.

The Golden Gates shook, sending a terrible rumble across the Heavenly Halls. The crimson carpet beneath his feet wrinkled.

The Golden Gates would soon be breached and the only one standing between his Patron Deity and the enemy would be him.

He sighed underneath.

To think that he would actually find himself fighting in these very halls hadn't occurred to him back in the mortal world. When he ascended after his purpose as His Champion was complete, he was promised peace and rest.

He was to stand as a Champion and Guard. The highest of honor for any mortal turned Champion.

'So much for that' He whispered in his thoughts.

The Golden Gates waned. As the last hinges finally gave, Arcelius fell into his favorite stance. One leg forward. One leg back. Knees bent. Forbearer raised and drawn near his forehead. Tip aimed at the Golden Doors.

He had to be quick. As soon as the Golden Doors gave way, he was to pounce. As much as possible, he wouldn't use his full power. Doing so may leave him open or worse, expose his master's essence in the aftermath.

Forbearer gleamed against his eye. He could feel his sword's spirit. It was eager and it desired blood.

The blood of treacherous angels.

The Golden Gates burst, sending sparkling dust into the air. Heavy steps stomped forth. Beings clad in ethereal white armor appeared in the midst of the cloud of dust, their pure blue eyes gleaming through. They held within their hands their own named weapons.

They all glared at Arcelius who stood unmoving and defiant before them.

"Arcelius," One of the beings called, its voice deep and raspy. Its armor was sharp along all its edges with complimenting blue streaks.

"You need not stand against us, mine old friend. Please. Come with us. If not, at least stand aside." The being sounded desperate. It took a few steps forward and stopped just short of Arcelius' sword range.

"How says thee?" It sounded hopeful.

The two powerful beings looked at each other. Their visors hid their eyes but both knew they were glancing at each other's souls.

"Primus.." Arcelius finally said, his tone weary. "Stand down and surrender."

The beings readied themselves.

"As should the rest of you," Arcelius continued, "Or do you prefer to be named? Secundus? Tertius? Quartum? Quintus? Sextus?"

Hearing this, Primus the High Angel sighed. He had expected Arcelius to fight to the bitter end for their old master, but he had the slightest of hopes within his heart that maybe, just maybe, his friend would come to see what they did.

"We have no time for this, Primus!" Quartum exclaimed, pointing his named spear at Arcelius, "We are wasting time. The sooner we are done here, the sooner we end this once and for all."

"Agreed. The fighting has gone on long enough. The Human Empire this mortal left behind has already overrun our beloved children. They will be at these very halls if we don't end this now." Quintus added.

Just as Primus was about to turn his attention back to Arcelius, the searing glow of a fiery sword greeted the periphery of his vision.

Forbearer met the side of the High Angel's armor, shearing off a chunk. To Arcelius' dismay, Primus was able to weave his head just enough to dodge his should-be fatal blow. At least he had something to show from it.

He quickly reformed his grip and spun, arms and sword stretched to their longest. His lightning fast movement augmented by his potent magic would often prove to be too fast for even the strongest of his fellow mortals to bear, unfortunately These were not the same mortals.

The Angels within his range jumped away. Primus himself staggered for a second before regaining his footing. Seemingly enraged, the high angel's named halberd flashed a bright crimson red as he leapt towards Arcelius' position.

Arcelius raised his sword and, with the grace of a slithering snake, parried the crimson halberd by the tip. Primus grunted as he found himself sliding towards a wall.

Wasting no time, Arcelius eyed Quartum with his sword and dashed towards him. Quartum, despite all his angelic power, found himself at the mercy of Arcelius unmatched speed. Though he was able to meet the Champion's sword with his spear, he still found himself pinned.

"Blast you!" He shouted. Quintus, Sextus, and Tertius surrounded the two.

As if on cue, all three angels charged. Scythe, glaive, and axe swinging through the air in clean arches. Arcelius turned and jumped. Twisting in the air, he used his enhanced dash once more and dove into the middle of the fray just as the angels were looking up.

The floor cracked upon his descent. Dust and rubble shot into the air. The angels themselves dashed back to a safe distance. Arcelius emerged from the cloud of dust, undamaged and gleaming.

His eyes flickered from angel to angel, traitor to traitor. His mind raced. He could use one of his magic spells to deal serious damage to one or two angels which should give him an edge in the fight but doing so risked damaging the halls and exposing his Patron's essence.

But of course, if his guests were to oblige him with their spells first then he would have justification to go all out. The risk was still there, of course. At least he could say, in good conscience, that whatever happened after was caused by an appropriate response.

However, it seemed like the traitors were aware of what he was thinking. Thus far they have only used enhancement magic on themselves with a few defensive spells sprinkled on their armor.

Just as Arcelius was about to make his next move, a golden arrow pierced through his left shoulder plate and sank into his flesh. Arcelius grunted as the force of the arrow threw him back, hurtling him across the glistening floor.

He slammed Forbearer into the floor, grinding himself to a halt. The red carpet that laid a few feet away from the stairs tore and wrinkled underneath his feet. Arcelius then stood and found himself pinned. The traitors had formed a wall in front of him and were slowly moving towards him.

Seeing this, he had no choice but to retreat. Reforming his stance, Arcelius found himself between his foes and the staircase. Sweat trickled down his face.

"Secundus." He said under his breath. Only one being was capable of piercing his armor with a single arrow and that was Secundus, the Master Archer.

Secundus was standing behind the others, near the front of what were the Golden Gates. Her bow was already pulled back and ready with another golden arrow aimed at Arcelius.

'Aiming for my other arm I see.' Arcelius thought as he removed the golden arrow still lodged into his flesh. Whatever pain he might have felt at the time was drowned by the adrenaline of the fight. No healing magic, not even his, would work on wounds inflicted by divine weapons. Such was the power of the highest tier of magic.

"Arcelius!" Quartum bellowed. "It's over for you and for your undeserving god. Stand aside or of course, meet your end by my spear!"

Arcelius should have been beyond the childish effects of a taunt.

It still worked.

Failure was not an option nor was it something he could stomach.

He never really liked Quartum. The Fourth High Angel always had a regal atmosphere around him that choked Arcelius whenever he got near.

Looking back, it was safe to assume that the two shared a mutual feeling of dislike for reasons that differed yet somehow related to each other. If there was ever a good time to point it out, now was as good as ever.

"I always assumed that you never fancied my presence, Quartum," Arcelius said. He felt Quartum smile under his helm.

"Oh? What makes you say that, dearest Arcelius?" Quartum replied, sarcasm in his tone.

"You seem awfully excited to kill me right now." Arcelius replied.

Quartum, in his thunderous voice, laughed. All the other high angels soon followed, all aside from Primus who remained silent through it all.

Regaining himself, Quartum cleared his throat. "I never liked you from the day He named you his Champion."

"A mere human given rank and privilege equal to the divine. An insult to our status and pedigree. If a mere mortal such as you could be granted power just like that then what says about all the other mortals?" Secundus added.

"Mortals should stay mortals, far from the heavens and chained to the whims of those superior and better." Tertius chimed in.

Arcelius' frown deepened.

Quintus stepped forward; hands wrapped firm around the grip of his longsword.

"You may have power equal to that of the highest angels, but you stand alone in your fruitless endeavor. Your comrades have fallen. Your God is stranded. Nothing awaits you but death, by our hands or yours." Quintus said.

Primus, who has thus far stayed silent as he stood by Secundus, walked forward and presented his halberd.

"This weapon of mine, named like all the others, is a gift from your master…." The most powerful of the High Angels hesitated for a brief moment. "If I were to surrender this to you, would it be enough to convince you to stand down and step aside?" Primus offered; he seemed adamant in resolving this without the need to shed further blood.

Arcelius pondered for a short while. If he was to accept his weapon, then he would be imbued with power equal to that of three High Angels. However, doing so would bind him to an oath which would prevent him from using his newfound power against them. Taking into account his oath of loyalty and protection to his master, he would be met with divine backlash that would ultimately cripple him for the rest of his immortal life.

One of the few downsides of being a Chosen Champion.

All of this was assuming that they wouldn't pounce on him the moment he was weakened.

Which was unlikely.

No, the mere fact he mulled over Primus' suggestion to break his oath to his master was already an inch too close to outright treason.

"No." He said, glaring and determined.

"Shame." Primus said.

It was becoming clear what the angels wanted. He was beginning to understand.

It made him all the more angrier.