Chapter 4
Samael awoke groggily, his vision adjusting to see Ariel perched by his bedside.
"Ariel, weren't you supposed to watch over me, not doze off?" he quipped, voice dry but laced with amusement.
Her face lit up. "Brother! You're awake! I thought..." She trailed off, her smile faltering.
"How long was I out?"
"Too long," she admitted, hesitating.
"And the power stone?"
Ariel shook her head, guilt etching lines across her face. "It wasn't there."
Samael sighed, his fingers curling into fists. "That means Azazel's still alive."
"And you're in no condition to face him again!" Ariel snapped. "You're at less than 1% of your full strength. It'd be suicide."
He met her gaze evenly. "The energy required to survive my last attack will leave him weak. He's not a threat—yet."
Ariel bit her lip, clearly unconvinced. "Rest. Please." With that, she left, though worry lingered in the air.
After some time, Samael dressed and went to the training grounds. However, as he did, he felt a wave of anger. Staring down at his hands, he noticed the veins beneath his skin darkening like spilled ink. What is happening to me? He wondered, clenching his fist to will the darkness away.
He noticed Uriel and Amenediel were sparring as he made it to the training grounds. The sound of clashing strikes echoed across the open space.
When Uriel noticed his master watching, his intensity spiked. "Sorry, Amenediel," Uriel muttered, his focus sharpening. "I can't hold back now." With blinding speed, Uriel struck, knocking Amenediel unconscious in an instant.
"It seems your student is better than mine," Ariel remarked wryly, observing from the sidelines.
Samael's jaw clenched. "Disappointing."
Uriel blinked. "But I won, Master!"
"And yet you failed the lesson." Samael's voice was ice. "I told you: skill alone. Overpowering a weaker opponent proves nothing. At this stage, Amenediel has greater potential."
"Maybe if you'd gone all-out against Azazel, you wouldn't be in this state," Uriel shot back, unable to mask his frustration.
Samael's eyes narrowed. The comment hit deeper than Uriel realised. But instead of rebuking him, Samael gestured to the ring. "Let me show you why skill matters."
"Are you sure, Samael?" Ariel interjected, concern flickering across her face.
He ignored her, focusing entirely on Uriel. "On guard."
The spar began. Despite Samael's weakened state, he dismantled Uriel's attacks effortlessly. Uriel lunged at his master, his movements fast but predictable. Samael flipped him to the floor with a casual flick of his wrist.
Uriel's eyes widened in confusion. What just happened?
Samael's voice was low and cutting: "See your predictable movements? A lack of planning. Charging blindly is foolish."
Uriel's frustration boiled over, fuelling his strikes. "Anger is a double-edged sword," Samael remarked, deflecting a flurry of attacks. "Harnessed, it can grant strength. Misused, it leads to your downfall."
Uriel continues attempting to hit Samael but is countered with a brutal punch to the sternum, dropping Uriel. Metatron walks in watching the fight. As the fight goes on, Samael's anger grows uncontrollably.
Uriel switched to his [Orchestra of Death] stance and the arena grew tense. The spectators—Ariel, Metatron, and even the recovering Amenediel—watched in awe. Uriel unleashed a barrage of rapid blows, pushing Samael harder than before.
However, as Samael's anger rose the tides shifted with brutal efficiency. Samael absorbed and amplified Uriel's kinetic energy, turning it into an explosion that sent the younger angel sprawling. "A shameful display," Samael said, his voice dripping with disappointment.
Uriel groaned, struggling to rise. "I'm not done yet, Master."
"Stay down."
"I will not, I will keep getting up no matter what you throw at me."
His defiance persisted, but Samael's temper frayed. When Uriel launched another attack, Samael retaliated with chilling ferocity.
A jab to Uriel's throat left him gasping for air. An elbow strike to his temple knocked him out cold. As he falls to the ground, Samael lands a roundhouse kick. Uriel tumbled to the floor, dazed but Samael wasn't done.
He picked Uriel up and slammed him down causing him to cough blood. His eyes glowed red as he stood over Uriel. The spar spiralled out of control, drawing in Ariel and Metatron to subdue him.
"Enough, Samael!" Ariel cried, stepping between them.
He hesitated, his gaze flickering with something dark and unrecognisable. Metatron used his hesitation to land a calculated blow to his temple, but to his shock, Samael didn't go down.
"You thought that would stop me?" Samael sneered. "How—"
Before he could finish bragging, Amenediel landed a right straight to his jaw, reeling Samael's head back. However, he broke his hand in the process.
Amenediel reels back groaning in pain, favouring his hand.
Samael's eyes glowed red as he growled, preparing to attack Amenediel, but his master launched a beam of light at his back, staggering him forward. Amenediel lands an oblique kick, dropping Samael to a knee.
Metatron lands a flying knee that lands flush on his face, sending him flying. He quickly stood, taking his [Orchestra of Death] fighting stance.
"[Technique development: Samael]," Amenediel chanted, replicating Samael's fighting stance—a mix between a wide and a narrow stance, with both arms up and partially closed.
A shock flashes on Samael's face; however, he shakes it off. By the time he does, Ariel launches a ball of light at him from the rear.
When he deflected it, he noticed Metatron already closed the distance between them, his eyes widened and he swiftly attacked, however, Metatron caught his attack and threw him towards Amenediel.
Samael slides, dodging Amenediel's attack while attacking his leg, causing Amenediel to flip over him. As he flips, Samael grabs his hand and throws him at Ariel, turning his attention to Metatron. While he closes the distance, Ariel creates a shield that bounces Amenediel back at Samael.
Samael notices this and dodges at the last second. However, Metatron deflects Amenediel back at Samael, forcing him to block the flying kick. This launches him towards Ariel, who fires a beam of light.
He swiftly turned to deflect it; however, to his shock, Uriel lunged in front of the attack.
When did you—
Before he could finish his thought, Uriel deflected the beam at him, forcing him to block, hurling him into the wall. Samael pulled himself out and attacked Uriel. As they clashed, Ariel closed the distance and landed a right straight to his chest launching him toward Amenediel, who kicked him toward Metatron.
Samael grits his teeth before a terrifying smile appears on his face as he glances at Metatron. Noticing this, Metatron's face contorts in fear. He dodges, Samael's spinning back fist and slams him to the ground.
Metatron attempts to end the fight with a punch to the face but Samael catches it as the symbol in his eyes begins to solidify. Metatron picked him up and threw him towards the incoming, Amenediel and Uriel. They both land a cross on his mid-section, throwing him back toward Metatron who puts him in a full nelson.
Ariel jumps in the air and throws a gigantic light ball at him, causing a massive explosion that dazes Samael. Metatron throws him up and slams him to the ground, following up with a punch to his face, knocking him out.
"What happened to him? Why was he so violent" Uriel asked, clutching his injuries.
"I don't know, he just wasn't himself," Ariel said quietly. "Let's take him to Raphael."
"Agreed," Metatron said and the group carried Samael to another chamber, where Raphael began his diagnostic ritual. Golden light enveloped Samael, but the healer's expression grew grim.
"What is it?" Metatron asked, noticing Raphael's pallor.
"His mana is... corrupted," Raphael said, his voice tight. "If he continues to use it, the corruption will spread. He could become our greatest enemy."
The room fell silent, the weight of the revelation sinking in.
"How long will he be out of commission?" Metatron asked.
"Aeons," Raphael muttered, barely audible.
A murmur rippled through the room until Michael's voice rang out. "We'll continue the war without him."
Gabriel scoffed. "You think we can defeat Azazel without Samael? He pushed Samael to his peak."
"It's doubtful Azazel will be as strong as he was when he faced Samael. After that energy he got hit with, I'll be surprised if he could even move."
"And who would lead us to war in our leader's absence," Gabriel asked.
A murmur rippled through the room. Michael stood tall. "Me, of course."
Gabriel chuckled, "Only the strongest is allowed to be the leader, are you insinuating you are stronger than me?" His aura spiked.
"And what if I am?" Michael's aura increased in kind.
They both faced off as their auras clashed. Michael is a tall and muscular archangel but close to Gabriel, he was towered over. Not only was he taller than Michael, he was more muscular.
"We'll just have to settle it right here, right now." Gabriel clenched his fist but Metatron stopped him.
"Samael chose Michael as his next in command. If you want to be the leader you have to challenge him for it," he explains.
"Fine then, I challenge you, Michael."
The archangels murmur with excitement, waiting for the winner.
As they approached the training room, Uriel asked Ariel what was going on.
"To be the leader you have to be the strongest, it's a rule brother set."
"Oh, I see, but wouldn't strategy be better?" Uriel asked.
Raphael chuckled, "That's a good question, but don't you think strategy is needed to defeat an archangel?"
The realization hit him, "Oh, so that's why he set it up like that, brilliant."
"This is going to be fun," Azrael said.
In the background, Uriel and Jophiel exchanged words for the first time since her promotion.
"What happened to you?" Jophiel asked, her sharp eyes examining the fresh cuts and bruises marring his skin.
"It's nothing," Uriel replied, brushing her concern aside. "Master just went a little overboard."
"A little?" Her voice rose, incredulous. "You're covered in—"
"I said it's fine," he interrupted, his tone firm.
Jophiel exhaled sharply. "Fine, I'll drop it. But know this—I hate seeing you like this. You should find a new master."
Uriel chuckled, a bitter edge to his voice. "I can't. No one trains me like he does."
"I could," she offered, her voice softening, though laced with pride. "I outrank you now, remember?"
"No need to rub it in." He smirked faintly before his tone shifted. "But I'm happy for you. Truly. Lord Zadkiel's legacy couldn't be in better hands."
"Thank you, Captain. That means a lot."
Uriel raised an eyebrow. "So… should I call you Lady Jophiel now?"
Her cheeks flushed at the suggestion. "No," she said quickly. "For you, I'll make an exception."
Changing the subject, Uriel leaned in. "Have you heard about this 'challenging the leader' rule?"
Jophiel frowned. "No. It is the first I've heard of it. But judging by the excitement of the archangels, it sounds like it might be fun."
"I'll have to ask Lady Ariel."
The two entered the grand training chamber, a vast hall gleaming with golden walls, floors, and ceilings. A glowing white light emanated from above, bathing the space in an unearthly brilliance. In the centre of the room stood a golden ring, flanked by tiers of ornate bleachers filled with archangels.
Uriel took a seat beside Ariel and whispered, "Why haven't I heard about this 'challenging the leader' thing before?"
Ariel arched an elegant brow. "Because brother has never been sidelined, and no one's foolish enough to challenge him after that incident."
"Except Azrael," Raphael quipped from a few seats down, drawing quiet laughter from the others.
Azrael shot him a glare. "Laugh all you want, but at least I had the guts to challenge a superior opponent. Unlike you cowards." His gaze settled on Ariel. "And you're the worst of all, clinging to Samael like a crutch. How pathetic."
"Enough!" Metatron's voice rang out, silencing the murmurs. The eldest archangel stepped into the ring, his commanding presence stilling the room. "The fight begins now."
Gabriel and Michael bumped fists and backed away, each studying the other with a calculating intensity.
There isn't a need to use it, my current power should be sufficient, Gabriel thought as he adopted a narrow stance that emphasised speed. Michael, a tactical genius second only to Samael, settled into a wide stance, poised for counterattacks.
They circled each other in tense silence before Gabriel lunged. His strikes were ferocious, a blur of fists and fury. But Michael didn't flinch. Calm and methodical, he parried each blow with precision, delivering a counter jab that staggered Gabriel.
The first blood was drawn—a single drop trickling from Gabriel's nose.
The crowd erupted in cheers. Michael smirked.
"Proud of that, are you?" Gabriel scoffed, wiping the blood away. "For a drop?" His expression hardened, "This fight is far from over."
He attacked again, only to meet the same fate. Michael countered flawlessly, his movements fluid and deliberate. A front kick to Gabriel's jaw followed by a side kick to the chest sent him flying out of the ring and crashing into the golden wall.
Silence fell over the room.
Uriel's breath caught. "How… how is it over already?"
Metatron stepped forward to announce Michael's victory, but a low groan stopped him.
Gabriel pulled himself free from the wall, approaching Michael. "Impressive kick," he admitted, cracking his neck. "But now I understand—beating you while holding back is impossible."
Michael frowned, his confidence wavering. "Holding back? What nonsense are you spouting?"
Gabriel's smile was grim. "Samael ordered me to seal my full strength. Said it surpassed even his."
The crowd gasped, disbelief rippling through the bleachers.
"Impossible!" Michael snapped. "Samael's strength is unmatched. This is a joke."
"He isn't lying," Metatron interjected, his tone grave.
Before anyone could respond, Gabriel released the seal.
A wave of overwhelming power exploded outward, a tangible force that sent shivers down the spines of even the mightiest archangels. Uriel struggled to remain upright, the sheer intensity of Gabriel's aura threatening to crush him.
The room was silent, every eye fixed on the golden ring.
The fight for leadership had only just begun, and no one—not even Michael—could predict how it would end.