The ocean was dying.
Once, it had sung hymns of creation — waves whispering praises to the Almighty as sunlight danced upon its crown. But now… it screamed. Black steam rose from its surface, and the air trembled with the stench of sulfur and decay. Every ripple carried echoes of pain, every tide — the memory of death.
From above, I hovered in the burning clouds, wings of gold folded tight against my back. The world beneath was no longer blue — only a vast scar of crimson and ash. The armies of man had already fallen; their machines, their weapons, their proud inventions — all swallowed by the sea. They had dropped their greatest weapons, their "nukes," they called them — and even their fire could not pierce the monster's skin.
Leviathan.
Its name alone poisoned the air. Its body stretched from horizon to horizon, a mountain of scales darker than void, harder than celestial steel. I had faced princes of Hell, I had wrestled with the flames of Satan, but never had I felt the world itself tremble at a single creature's breath.
I could feel its heartbeat.
Each pulse sent waves that shattered islands and dragged fleets beneath the deep. The sound of its movement was not a roar but a sermon — a sermon of chaos, of the world before light. I knew then why God Himself had slain the female Leviathan before the dawn of man. If two of them had lived… creation would never have survived.
I descended through the clouds. Lightning wove around my armor as I gripped the Sword of Silence — the same blade forged from the slain female's spine. It thrummed in my hand, singing to its kin below.
"You were born of its death," I whispered. "Now, let us see if you can end its life."
The sea exploded.
From beneath, a column of black fire erupted — fire that burned not from heat, but from the hatred of the abyss itself. It split the clouds, and for a moment, I saw it — the King of the Sea.
The Leviathan rose.
Its head broke the ocean like a god tearing open the world's surface. Scales glistened with molten light, each larger than a cathedral. Eyes like suns burning in reverse — pits of living darkness — fixed on me. It opened its mouth, and a thousand tongues of light unfurled, writhing like serpents.
A sound followed — not a roar, but a symphony of damnation. Whales burst into flame. The tides turned red. The stars dimmed.
And then, it spoke.
"Little sun… child of the throne… you dare descend into my sea?"
Its voice was everywhere. In the waves. In my mind. In my very soul.
"You shine brightly, angel — but I am the shadow that first was. When your kind were but sparks, I swam in the dark before light was born."
I raised the Sword of Silence and answered,
"Then hear me, ancient one — I am the Living Sun, the voice of Heaven's wrath. By the will of the Almighty, I cast you back into the void from which you came."
I dove.
My wings blazed with divine fire as I descended, splitting the clouds and sea alike. The Sword of Silence screamed as it cut through the air. I struck.
The blade met its scales — and shattered light exploded outward. The impact alone sent tsunamis rolling for miles, drowning continents. But when the light cleared, the Leviathan had not even flinched. My blade had struck a mountain of eternity — and eternity did not bleed.
The Sword trembled, its edge cracked. The beast laughed, the sound like the grinding of worlds.
"Did you think the skin of Leviathan could be cut by mortal will, even one forged in Heaven's flame?"
It twisted its massive body, and the sea obeyed. A vortex opened beneath me — miles wide — pulling everything into its maw. I unfurled my wings, resisting, calling forth the Elemental Commandments — the first songs of creation.
"Lux Ignis!"A sphere of celestial fire bloomed in my hand, bright as a star. I hurled it downward — the sea vaporized. The Leviathan roared, but when the light faded, it still lived, its scales only glowing faintly.
"Ventus Tempestum!"I commanded the winds; a hurricane formed, blades of air cutting across its hide. The clouds swirled into chaos — and yet the beast's flesh was unmarked.
"Glacies Divina!"I called the frozen breath of Heaven, a storm of divine frost that could halt even time. The ocean solidified into crystal — but then shattered as Leviathan exhaled once more, melting the ice like candle wax.
Its mouth opened — and I saw the suns.
Thousands of orbs of burning light gathered within, bioelectric tendrils writhing like living roots. It was collecting energy from the sun itself, through the water, through its veins. The sea glowed red beneath it.
"Now, angel… let me show you what true fire is."
The beam struck.
I barely moved before it hit me — a torrent of searing light, brighter than the death of worlds. My wings folded instinctively, shielding my core, but the force hurled me miles backward, through the clouds, through the air, through the burning cities below. I crashed into the ruins of what was once New Rome — now just bones and dust.
The ground broke beneath me. My armor smoked. The smell of burnt holiness filled the air.
I rose — barely. My halo flickered.
He was beyond comparison. His power wasn't magic — it was nature's rage itself, purified into one impossible being. Fire, water, pressure, light — all obeyed him.
For the first time since my birth, I felt something alien.
Not pain. Not fear.Awe.
"Metatron!" The name echoed faintly in my mind — Raphael's voice, from Heaven's gate.
"Retreat! You cannot destroy what the Almighty preserved! Leviathan is not your foe to slay!"
I answered through blood and thunder.
"Then why am I here, brother? To watch the world burn? To see creation fall to despair?"
And I lifted my sword again.
Heaven trembled. My remaining power ignited. Flames of creation swirled around me, mixing with lightning, ice, and shadow — the raw forces of existence. I hurled them as one — a divine storm, so vast it split the ocean in two.
For a heartbeat, the Leviathan disappeared.
Then came the counterstroke.
From the sea rose its tail — a continent-sized pillar of muscle and armor. It crashed upon the surface, and the world itself bent. My storm was erased. The sky cracked open, and I was swallowed by darkness.
Through the chaos, I saw him emerge again — slower now, like a god satisfied with destruction.
His eyes fixed on me.
"Angel of the Crown… you carry your Father's light. But tell me — what is light without shadow? What is creation without chaos? I am balance. I am the hunger between stars. I am the silence before the first word."
It lunged.
I met it with everything I had.
My sword blazed. My wings flared. I called down lightning, fire, water, and stone. The sky became a battlefield of gods — and still, I could not cut through his flesh. Every blow I struck only made him laugh.
And then, it came — the breath of the abyss.
From his mouth came not flame, but the light that burns light itself — black fire, the kind that consumes souls. It washed over me before I could move.
I screamed — but no sound came.
My armor melted. My wings burned. My halo shattered like glass.
For a moment, I saw everything — the angels watching from Heaven, the demons cheering in Hell, the mortals weeping in the ruins below. And then, nothing.
The world went white.
And I fell. but I regenerated and continue fighting.
The oceans roared like furious beasts, waves clawing skyward, spilling fire upon the coasts. Entire fleets vanished, cities crumbled, and humanity could only watch as a terror older than time itself claimed dominion over the seas.
Metatron hovered above the inferno, the Sword of Silence clutched tightly in his hands. His wings flared, radiating blinding light, but even he felt the weight of something beyond comprehension. From the depths, the Leviathan rose—a colossal serpent-dragon, black as the void, scales shimmering with an oily gleam. Not a scratch marred its hide; human weapons, Behemoth-level assaults, even divine strikes, would have been useless. The beast was invincible.
Metatron's eyes, six hundred and fifty burning with determination, met the Leviathan's glowing gaze. It was a creature of chaos, of envy, of primal destruction. Its massive form coiled through the oceans, claiming everything in its path: ships vaporized, cities turned to molten rubble, and waves taller than skyscrapers swept the coasts clean.
He surged forward, light and sword igniting, wings slashing storms across the sky. Fire, ice, tornadoes, torrents of water, beams of pure energy—he unleashed everything he could conjure. He struck with the Sword of Silence, magic streaming from his palms, thunder shaking the seas. But nothing pierced the Leviathan's hide. Nothing slowed it. The creature's dominance was absolute.
Then came the flames.
A wave of photokinetic fire, collected from the sun itself through its bioelectric tendrils, erupted from the Leviathan's maw. The heat was unimaginable, each ember burning like the heart of a star. Metatron felt the first tendrils of flame lash across his wings. The Sword of Silence flared, his aura exploding outward in defiance, but the heat consumed him anyway, searing flesh, turning light into smoke, corroding even divine armor.
Pain, unlike any he had known, roared through him. His light faltered, sputtered. The Sword of Silence clattered from his grip as he screamed, burning from the inside out. Metatron's vision blurred, his many eyes flickering, wings failing to hold him aloft. Flames consumed him fully, a furnace made manifest by the Leviathan itself.
"I… cannot… fail…" he whispered through smoke and agony. But even hope could not shield him this time.
The Leviathan's roar split the heavens, shaking the air and the seas alike. Cities collapsed in molten ruin, waves of fire swallowing the remnants of humanity's defenses. It was not a fight anymore—it was the assertion of dominance. The seas, the coasts, the world itself belonged to the Leviathan. Metatron hung suspended, consumed, invisible beneath the inferno.
Time passed in agonizing silence, the world burning around him. And then… a new light.
Raphael descended, wings outstretched, glowing brighter than the dawn. Each feather radiated restorative energy, cutting through smoke, fire, and despair. He landed amidst the ruins, eyes scanning the blazing wasteland until they found him: the Living Sun, broken and burned, nothing left but the remnants of his once-dazzling form.
"Hold… on," Raphael whispered, hands glowing as he reached toward the fallen archangel.
Metatron felt it immediately—a warmth, a thread of life weaving back into him. Pain remained, yes, every cell scorched, but Raphael's magic flowed through him like a river of mercy. Flesh mended, wings reformed, eyes reignited. He coughed, choking on fire-tinged smoke, yet Raphael's hands never wavered, his power relentless and perfect.
Minutes—or hours—passed, Metatron's body trembling as Raphael purged the burn, healed the scorch, and restored what even divine might could not. When the light finally faded, Metatron rose, wings spread, aura dimmed but resolute.
He looked down at the oceans. The Leviathan had claimed its territory. Cities lay in ruin, waves churned with unstoppable fury, and the world trembled beneath the shadow of the king of the seas.
Metatron closed his eyes, the truth settling like stone in his chest.
This was no ordinary threat. No mere prince of Hell. No fleeting calamity. The Leviathan was absolute, invincible, a force beyond reckoning. If humanity was to survive, it would take more than might, more than valor.
He looked at Raphael, gratitude and newfound resolve shining through his burned form.
"This… is no joke," Metatron murmured. "Not anymore."
The archangel simply nodded, wings folding, still radiating the quiet strength that had saved him. Together, they gazed across the blazing waters, knowing the battle for survival had only just begun. The Leviathan had made its mark, and the Living Sun, though revived, understood that the war for the seas and the world was far from over.