Chapter 22- So what if I killed a few Angels?

The angels circled me like moths drawn to a flame, their celestial forms shimmering with light, but it was dim—fragile. As I stood among them, watching their desperation and determination, I couldn't help but feel underwhelmed. For all their posturing, they were far weaker than I'd anticipated.

It wasn't just their strength. Their very essence felt stunted, as though their existence lacked the fullness of divinity. They were beings born of belief, but their power was a mere flicker compared to the inferno of my own.

I mused on the reason. These angels and their so-called Almighty had yet to be recognized by the world in any meaningful way. Their influence extended only to a few hundred mortals, a whisper against the booming chorus of my pantheon's thousands. Creation may have begun simultaneously for us all, but without belief, without worship, there was no fuel for their divinity. At this moment in history, the Greeks stood far mightier than these fledgling Christians.

My thoughts were interrupted as I saw Michael's expression harden. His grip tightened on his sword, and the weight of his resolve filled the air. He turned to his companions.

"Go," he ordered, his voice firm, though a tremor of fear lingered beneath it. "All of you. Return to Heaven. Tell the Almighty what has transpired here."

The other angels hesitated, but their fears won them over as one by one, they vanished in bursts of light, leaving only Michael and the remaining Archangels.

Michael's gaze returned to me, and he raised his sword high, its light intensifying. "We will hold the line," he declared, his voice trembling with both courage and desperation. "This demonic god will not advance any further!"

I sighed, letting my shoulders sag. "You're going to make this difficult, aren't you?"

The Archangels charged as one, their weapons gleaming with divine energy. Blades, spears, and hammers swung at me with relentless fury, their attacks accompanied by blinding flashes of light.

I barely moved, parrying with lazy efficiency. Their blows were powerful—by mortal standards—I had read stories that the Archangels were the greatest warriors of Heaven. Each created with grand talent and purpose that maked them the greatest in all the world.

One by one, I struck them down. Uriel fell first, his fiery sword extinguished by a single slash of my blade. Gabriel followed, her spear shattered before she crumpled to the ground. Sariel dropped dead when I destroyed their heart, and Raguel and Remiel both ended in the same fate as Raphael.

My mind did wonder as I killed each of them. As the god of souls I could just bring them back... I could make my very own group using the Archangels to create an elite group loyal to me. Oh this was going to be fun but first I needed to kill, Michael.

Michael's armor was battered, his sword cracked, but his resolve hadn't wavered. He charged at me, his movements slower now, more desperate. I met his blows head-on, the clash of our swords ringing out like thunder across the desolate land.

Hours passed, or perhaps it was mere moments. Time seemed to blur as our battle continued, neither of us yielding. Michael was skilled, far more than his fallen brethren, but even he couldn't match my strength.

Finally, as I prepared to end this tedious encounter, the sky above us split open once more, but this time, it wasn't the angels returning. A bolt of lightning, impossibly bright and deafening in its ferocity, struck the ground between us. The shockwave sent Michael stumbling back, his sword falling from his grasp. I moved to end things when a voice spoke, literally shaking the heavens and the very earth beneath our feet.

"ENOUGH!"

The power in that single word was immense, and even I felt its weight. Michael dropped to his knees immediately, his head bowed low, trembling as though the voice itself could smite him where he knelt.

"Lord," he whispered, his tone reverent and fearful. "Forgive us."

I stood still, curious but unshaken. My eyes turned skyward, where the source of the voice began to manifest. Whatever—or whoever—this was, it had finally decided to intervene. And I was more than ready to meet it.

The figure before me was striking. He was tall and imposing, his presence heavy with divinity. Long white hair flowed down his back, blending into a full, regal beard. He radiated an aura of age and power, yet beneath it all was a lingering sadness—a weight that seemed to press on his very soul.

I whistled, breaking the tense silence. "Well, aren't you a sight? The long hair and beard... let me guess, you're the boss of this place?"

The man didn't immediately respond. His gaze fell on the battlefield—the fallen Archangels, their once-radiant forms now lifeless on the bloodied ground. His expression hardened, and he sighed heavily, his voice carrying sorrow as he addressed Michael.

"Take them back to Heaven," he commanded, his voice deep and resonant, filled with an undeniable authority. "Give them the rest they deserve."

Michael moved to obey, but before he could vanish, I raised a hand, summoning a spear wreathed in primordial flames. With a snap of my fingers, the weapon struck true. Michael gasped, clutching his chest as golden ichor spilled from the wound. His wings flickered, dimmed, and then vanished entirely as he collapsed, lifeless.

The man turned to me sharply, his calm demeanor fracturing into barely contained rage. "You would dare?" he growled, his voice echoing like thunder. "You kill my Archangels, defile my creation, and now this?!"

I waved him off dismissively, letting the flames of my spear dissipate. "Spare me the dramatics. I'm not interested in hearing you preach."

His anger boiled over, his voice rising. "You act just like him—that damned first human I created. Adam!"

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite myself. "Oh? Do tell."

He pointed an accusatory finger at me as he began to rant, his words spilling out like an unchecked flood. "That ungrateful bastard! I gave him everything—a paradise tailored to his every need. I created animals to keep him company, angels to serve him, and even a perfect partner in Lilith. But no—he defied me, killed one of my angels, and defended that viper when I tried to replace her with Eve."

He paced angrily, his hands gesturing wildly. "And what did he do next? He conspired with those two women to eat the fruits of the Garden—all of them! Knowledge, Life, Immortality... They consumed them all and then fled to some far-off land, leaving the Garden in chaos!"

His rambling continued, his frustration pouring out like a man desperate to unburden centuries of grievances. I sighed loudly, cutting him off mid-sentence. "Are you done?"

He stopped, blinking at me in surprise.

"Good," I continued, folding my arms. "Let me make this perfectly clear—I don't care about your problems. Your rebellious first human, your vipers, your fruits, your garden... none of it is my concern. I came here for something, I took it, and now I'm leaving."

His face twisted in fury, and he stepped forward, his presence growing heavier as the ground beneath us cracked. "You will not leave!" he roared, raising a hand to stop me.

Before he could act, I moved faster. A single strike—subtle but decisive—sent him sprawling to the ground. His divine aura flickered as he crumpled, unconscious.

I knelt beside him, shaking my head in mock disappointment. "For a supposed Almighty, you're surprisingly fragile." With a wave of my hand, the remains of the fallen angels vanished, consumed by shadow.

I glanced back at the crumpled figure of God. "You really should work on your temper."

Without another word, I turned and left, stepping back into my domain. My work here was done, and I had no desire to linger in this pitiful corner of existence any longer.