Somewhere in an African country was a young man named Bazill. He was an ordinary student who had just finished his third year of university, and at the moment, he was in town, handling some business for his father. It was routine for him at this point.
"Thank you, sir." He said calmly to the security guard as he walked out of the building, a backpack resting on his shoulders. He wore a checkered white and blue shirt, dark blue jeans and white and blue boots.
Minutes later, he was on his hefty motorcycle stopping at a red light with his black helmet. His right foot moved rhythmically with the music playing in his earphone. He wasn't listening to what most other African would listen to, his playlist was a mix of Anime openings, Game osts, and Japanese style musics and many others. It wasn't like he despised African music, far from it but most of them lacked variety and only a select few actually hit the switch in his brain.
"Man, the traffic is awfully dense for this time of the day..." He couldn't help but comment. He knew the road decently well and it usually wasn't THAT packed but then again, he didn't habit in the area so there might have something else going on he wasn't aware of.
The light finally turned green and as the cars at the front were about to advance, an awful shook every one present to the core. It was like a glass window was breaking, just thousands of times louder. Obviously, everyone was startled. Nobody knew such where such a sound came from, that was until someone looked at the sky. Bazill had to shake his head a few times to make sure he wasn't hallucinating because of the rising heat.
And unfortunately, he wasn't. Neither were the other people around him. The sky was cracked, as if someone had smashed it with a hammer. It wasn't just at a specific spot either; the entire sky was just covered in cracks, and new ones were appearing more and more. A thick golden liquid dripped down from these cracks, but it was only getting weirder by the second.
Feathered beings, numbering in the thousands, soon emerged from the cracking sky. Anyone could easily tell they were Angels but they weren't alone. Beings whose skin as red a blood, bearing horns twisted in different shapes came down swinging weapons at the Angels. People were stunned by the display many thoughts running through their minds.
Bazill stayed a few minutes, snapping pictures and videos and then he did was most people should be doing in this situation: Dipping the fuck out! Traffic wasn't easy to deal with. In fact, he almost got in a few scuffles because he wasn't the alone trying to run—well drive away. Accidents were happening all the place but he wasn't planning to stay, not with everything going on above his head.
Had he stayed only for a second more, he probably would have seen the billions of motes of multicolored lights falling down like snow and entering into people left and right. Unbeknownst to him, two found their way into him as well but he never knew.
About an hour later, he found into a familiar roundabout, where he was currently stuck. Cars, trucks, motorcycles were all stopped there. Engines were roaring, horns were honking but no one could advance at all. Bazill tapped his finger restlessly against the break of his motorcycle. Earlier he had tried to contact his parents but nothing at all.
Even when he couldn't get in contact with them right away, they would always call back, which usually happened before the hour mark. After seeing Angels and Demons battling in the sky, which were races seen as myths, anxiety was gnawing at his mind. He couldn't stop himself from imagining the worst.
"AAAAAAAHHH!" Screams of pain snapped him out of his thoughts. At the front, several trucks were being torn apart, metal chunks flew overhead, hitting some people on the head.
"And that is why you wear a helmet on these roads." Bazill thought to himself, backing up to drive the other way. There no one to check the traffic, and even if there were, who would be staying after seeing what happened to the sky? As he prepared to drive on the dirt, he caught sight of something that made him freeze in his rearview mirror. No, it wasn't a cop.
It was a small creature with long ears, its skin was blood red, its teeth sharp like knives. The thing was quite small about as large a baby, but unlike a baby, it was tearing the numerous cars and truck stuck behind Bazill with relative ease. And from what he managed to see, it wasn't a single one; it was a whole infestation of these things.
"... Great, simply great!" Bazill muttered to himself, "We have fucking Imps on our arms!" The people around him were backing up, driving off at full speed and Bazill wasn't going to be the last.
Once his wheels landed on the dirt, Bazill drove off as fast as he could. The road was insanely bumpy and surprisingly empty, considering what was happening. That didn't ease his mind, however. "Please be safe!" He said, almost like a prayer. Then, out of nowhere, a group of Imps dug out of the ground.
Bazill pressed hard on his brake, and combined with the not so smooth dirt road, he found himself flying in the air, his bike striking the three Imps like pins. He landed hard on his side, but strangely enough, he didn't feel that much pain. That was until he took a look at his arm.
"AAAARRRGGHHH!" He roared in pain, looking at his mangled limb, broken at several spots and twisted in ways no arm should be. His heart pounded in his ears, never in his life did Bazill get a broken arm, the shock was quite overwhelming. He was on th ground, contorting and groaning in pain.
One of the Imps, the only that hadn't been flung too far, rose to its feet. Seeing that, it grinned, malicious thoughts forming behind its hollow black eyes. Without any hesitation, it rushed at Bazill. The young man could see the creature approaching rapidly. He would be screaming at the moment if not for his voice being trapped in throat.
His heart was still roaring in his ears but he wasn't gonna stay still. He lifted one leg and kicked the creature in its protuding belly but it barely made the thing stumble as if it didn't feel anything at all. With an ear-rending screech, the Imp dug its claws into Bazill's leg, ripping through his pants and tearing chunks of flesh off.
Bazill howled as the pain assaulted him. He keep on kicking the Imp, desperation burned in his eyes like fire. With each kick, fear grew more intense but so did his will to live but as if to crush his hope, the two other Imps joined in, clawing at his face and torso as if to tear him apart.
A pool of blood formed below Bazill as he put his arms up to defend himself. But when desperation reached its peak, something happened, it was nothing short of a miracle that saved Bazill but also hundreds of thousands around the world...