In the blue sky, the air was cold and harsh, but the birds were chirping, passing over the ice and icy hills. From the hills, two distinct individuals could be seen walking on a fresh patch of shivering snow. One had red hair and wore no extra covering, even though the temperature was freezing to the bone. Behind her, golden hair flared in the chiseled wind, his golden eyes focused on the newly made scanner.
"He's still far, but we can reach him. It won't be long," Aron muttered, walking close to Khorn, taking in her warm, radiating heat. Indeed, it was great to have an elemental with him. If he had accepted Elyon's continuous begging, the old man would have finally died, as he himself would have frozen altogether.
He looked at her back, her hands busy on her phone, trying to reach James with many calls.
Elyon's words still echoed—how she thought she was the reason for their brotherhood dissolving, for their betrayal, and for everything that happened after. For that reason, she had carried that guilt for decades. So the old man asked Aron to go soft on her, saying that even now, she was still traumatized by the event.
'Well, I wasn't going to blame her anyway. She must have done everything she could, but being the youngest, maybe she wasn't heard, maybe she wasn't ... noticed.' he thought, as a small winter bird landed right on his shoulder, chirping and chirping.
He understood the bird, as if every chirp was a message meant for him alone. "…James?" he voiced, catching Khorn's attention. "He's coming… here?" he asked.
The bird chirped more, its neck pointing in the direction it had flown from—the direction they intended to go to search for Peter, not to mention the Olympian cunt.
"I see...He will be coming here soon," Aron said.
"Here? But my lord, what should we prioritize—meeting James or heading toward Peter?" she asked.
"We are doing both. We will meet him, and then we will head directly to Hermez."
Khorn couldn't help but scrunch her eyes as her expression darkened. She knew—she knew that if they met James first, things wouldn't go as planned. "My lord, I suggest we reach Peter first. You already said he is our first priority," she pleaded, almost like a begging-request.
He heard her clear but after listening to Elyon, the confident tone in her voice no longer felt confident. It felt like a cover. Aron walked closer, meeting her eye to eye. "Khorn, you know that whatever happened, you can tell me. Tell me what actually happened. What did your brothers and sisters do?" he asked.
Khorn's face darkened even more, her breath growing heavy. "….." Silence followed. She heaved and huffed, then met his eyes. "My lord, I swore a promise with Brother John that I wouldn't reveal the details. Please forgive me," she said, before walking forward once more.
Aron looked at her. It didn't take a single second to realize it was a plain lie. Even she must have felt it, yet she said it anyway. In the past, he would have ordered her to speak the truth, but...not now. He knew it all too well. The man he used to be was a failure, and he didn't want to be a failure again.
So he simply walked behind her, taking in her warmth—warmth he had once lost, warmth he had once forgotten. 'Always so feisty and soft at the same time,' he thought.
The cold wind blew harder and harder. Snow covering in as a storm approached from afar. "My lord, should we look for cov—" she began, but paused as the wind carried many feathers, many long, all white feathers—toward them. Aron sniffed the air, his gaze confused.
'Uriel? …No, it's not her,' he thought.
"Khorn!" he called, pulling her back and stepping in front of her.
"What is it, my lord?" she asked, worry creeping in as the storm grew stronger. He rarely reacted like this.
Aron saw a light from far away, coming straight toward them, no, straight toward him. "…its an angel."
A being of light and high karma—the warriors of Heaven, the ones who balanced the world and kept chaos at bay while he was gone, and the biggest pain in the ass people of all time. He could beat gods and crush demons, but an angel—an angel was something he could not afford to deal with right now.
[High divinity inbound]
[Principality-rank Angel detected]
"Haa… and it's a higher rank at that," he snarled.
The storm arrived before the angel's light. Snow drifted violently around them as Aron stayed grounded, shielding Khorn. The sharp cold wind and feathers battered them, forcing Aron to close his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, the storm was gone, and something else was there.
An individual covered in gold and silver from head to toe stood before him.
Khorn stepped up beside Aron, staring at the armored figure. "…its really an angel?" she asked. "He's got no wings and all that," she said.
"Shhh…" Aron muttered. Of course she couldn't see it. Not anyone could—but his golden eyes could perceive the supernatural. The folded, radiant wings on its back and the sharp silver halo above its head.
"What do you want?" Aron asked. "I'm on a mission right now."
"Aron, the Golden Immortal," the angel voiced, his words laced with high divinity. He utterly ignored Khorn, as if she wasn't even there. His attention was solely on the golden man before him. All his senses focused on him and him alone.
"I have been ordered by those above to notify you," he declared.
"…And by whom?" Aron asked, his eyes glowing brighter as he watched the silver halo spin—never a good sign.
"Stop Here and Return," the angel answered. "The prophets have aligned a disaster if you continue your path, one that will affect the whole time continuum."
Aron scoffed, the word prophets irritating him more than anything. He had followed their orders once—but not anymore. He realized late but he realized. The so called prophets were nothing more than puppets.
"I refuse," he said simply, walking past him. "Let's go, Khorn. Here I thought there would be something urgent."
Khorn followed, glancing back at the rare being, confused as hell. The angel was confused as well. Turning, he remembered the warning from above and produced an order script, holding it high.
"You refuse, even if it is from the mighty Michael himself?"
Aron stopped.
"Michael?"