Senior Server Felix stood at the front of the church, his voice steady and solemn as he greeted the congregation. “Our help is in the name of the Lord,” he intoned.  

“Who made Heaven and Earth,” the people responded in unison, their voices matching his reverent tone.  

“Today, we initiate new members into this divine and holy Order,” Felix continued. “Today, we welcome new brethren into the bosom of our Lord Jesus Christ.”  

At the back of the church, Louis sat on one of the few single chairs, his posture slightly slouched as his focus remained on a sheet of music in his hands. The title read, "Brightest and Best – Key of A-flat."

'Why didn’t Gramps give me an F or G? A-flat is so difficult, and I only have three days to finish it,' he grumbled silently, his brow furrowing in frustration. But he dared not voice his complaints. He could already imagine his grandfather assigning him even more difficult pieces—F-sharps and endless A-flats—as punishment.  

From the front of the church, a serene voice called out, “Harry! Step forward!”  

Louis glanced up, momentarily pulled from his inner musings. His eyes landed on a girl stepping forward from the pews. She had black hair neatly styled in a bun and striking green eyes that seemed to shine with warmth and composure. Dressed in a modest brown dress and black sandals, with a rosary resting gracefully around her neck, she exuded a calm, dignified presence. Her tanned skin and graceful demeanor only added to the aura of reverence surrounding her, befitting an Altar server.  

'Sigh,' Louis thought as he brushed a hand through his white hair, his blue eyes softening with a mix of admiration and envy. 'I wonder what it’s like to be an Altar server. They all seem so pure and divine… and powerful.'  

Just as he returned his attention to his music, a calm, gentlemanly voice spoke beside him. “You could also be an Altar server, if you’re interested.”  

“Huh?” Louis blurted out, snapping his head to the side. But no one was there.  

“What in the name of Jesus is going on here?” he muttered, glancing nervously around.  

“At least you know my name,” the voice replied again, seemingly amused.  

“What?” Louis whispered, his heart beginning to race.

"I'm certain you will be a good server," the voice said, calm yet enigmatic.  

Louis narrowed his eyes, still searching for its source. "Who are you?"  

"I have many personalities. I have many names," the voice replied with an air of mystery. "It’s your choice which one you accept."  

"You’re not making any sense," Louis muttered, growing more unsettled.  

"Blessed are those who have not seen but believed…"  

Before Louis could respond, his vision blurred, and the world around him seemed to melt away.  

He jolted awake, gasping for air. His hands clutched the crumpled sheet of music, its corners bent from his restless grip. His head teetered precariously over the edge of his bed, a faint ache in his neck reminding him of the awkward position he’d been in.  

"Holy Mother of Jesus!" he exclaimed as he lost his balance, tumbling off the bed in a heap of blankets and scattered papers.

Under the fractured skies above Dubai, the city had become a skeleton of its former brilliance. The towers of glass and steel stood cracked, blackened by fire and time, and the air carried the weight of ash, smog, and the silent whispers of the dead. It was here, amidst the ruins of empires and fortunes, that two titans of fate collided for their final confrontation—Sahil Abdul, the Black Market Mogul turned Prophet of the Streets, and Ember Lance, the Divine Nephilim whose light could sear through the veil of darkness itself.


Chapter 89 - Clash of Foresight and Nephilim