CASTIEL'S REQUIEM

Chapter 47: The End is Near

The sound of a trumpet pierced the air, making everyone freeze in fear. It was the call of battle for the last days, the cry for Armageddon. Like people recovering from a shock, the angels attacked, shouting out words of war as they felt the shift in the balance - the rebirth of the angel of Death and war. They now knew they had a chance to win.

The demons rushed toward their opponents, their numbers greater than that of the angels, for they were innumerable but weak. However, they had a clear advantage: they bore arms gotten directly from the Golden City armory. Both sides clashed in a frenzy of steel and fury.

Grunts of pain and the smell of death whispered in the air as the death reapers moved on both sides, harvesting the souls of the dead Immortui. Metatron froze at the sight before him, his eyes widening as he confirmed the demons' claim: there were indeed over a billion demons in Golden City.

The sheer scale of the enemy's forces took his breath away. He had never seen such a vast army, and for a moment, he wondered if they could emerge victorious. But then, his resolve hardened. He would not falter. He would lead the angels to victory, no matter the cost.

Forcing himself out of his reverie, Metatron manifested his weapons and charged toward the battlefield. He had left Zadkiel on Earth to help Castiel, but now he was back, driven by a singular focus: to defend Golden City.

An arrow whizzed past his ear, and he caught it with his left hand, breaking it in two with a swift motion. Rushing toward the direction the arrow had come from, he swung his sword, severing the head of the demon who had fired it.

"Hey, you're back," Saraquiel said, appearing by his side as suddenly as the arrow had.

"Yeah, I tortured a demon on Earth and found out we're being attacked, so I came back," Metatron replied, cutting through a demon that had attacked him.

"I'm sorry," Saraquiel said, cutting down two demons at once. "I shouldn't have doubted you."

"Apology accepted, but now's a bad time for a heart-to-heart," Metatron said, casting her a half-glance before continuing his killing spree. "We gotta get these bastards."

Saraquiel nodded, and together they fought, their movements fluid and complementary as they annihilated every demon in their path. They fought side by side until no demon was left alive on their side, or so they thought.

A wave of fresh demons surged toward them, attacking with everything they had against the tired duo. Metatron felt like collapsing, joining his fallen comrades, but he fought harder, driven by a fierce determination. He had to hold out until reinforcements came.

—_—

Mikhael ignored Rafael's question, turning instead to Yakov. She placed her left pinkie on his forehead, and a golden light began to emanate from her, flowing into him. Yakov convulsed, his body shuddering as the power coursed through his veins. It was a meager amount, but for a human, it was almost too much to handle.

When Mikhael finally removed her pinkie, Yakov's eyes had changed. A fleck of gold and blue swirled in his black pupils, a testament to the power he had received.

"You are to return to your commander," Mikhael ordered, her voice firm and commanding. "Tell him that we all died in the attack, save for you and Yehoshua. You are not to speak of what transpired here today."

Yakov nodded, his eyes wide with understanding. He knew exactly what was expected of him.

Mikhael turned to Uriel, her expression grim. "Good. Now, lead the way."

Uriel nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Follow me, sister."

With that, he turned and began to lead the group, Mikhael following close behind. Her powers were growing by the minute, and she could feel the call of war echoing through her veins.

—_—

Yacov watched in awe as the four angels vanished into thin air. He shook himself out of his frozen state, feeling an strange, newfound energy coursing through his veins. He felt stronger, faster, like a superhero.

Picking up his rifle, he moved towards the vehicle, only to mutter a curse when he realized he no longer had the keys. Undeterred, he hotwired the vehicle and drove to the last place he had seen Yehoshua fall.

He believed Yehoshua was dead, but Lieutenant Eva... no, Archangel Mikhael, had said he was alive. All Yacov had to do was find him.

As he approached the tower, a grunt sounded from a nearby trench. Yacov dashed towards the sound and found Yehoshua struggling to get out. He stretched out his hand, and Yehoshua grasped it with all his might. With a strength he didn't know he possessed, Yacov dragged Yehoshua out of the trench.

Yehoshua rambled, still dazed, "What happened, man? I... Where... How... I just had the weirdest dream."

Yacov stared at his cousin, a mixture of confusion and concern etched on his face. "There's this dude," Yehoshua continued, "he healed my broken legs and arms."

Here is the revised text:

"Oh," Yacov said, knowing better than to refute Yehoshua's claims, for then he would dig to find the answers.

"Where are the others, where's the Lieutenant?" Yehoshua asked, realizing the battle was over.

Yacov delivered the bad news, his voice gentle but firm. "Everyone died, except us, Cuz."

He watched as Yehoshua's face crumbled in pain, saw him fight back tears, and knew when the guilt settled in. Yehoshua believed it was his fault, that he should have been the one to die.

Yacov placed a hand on his cousin's shoulder. "Come on, Yehoshua, we saved the city and its citizens, but if you stay here wallowing in pain, other cities will be destroyed. We have to warn the commander about the Arrysians."

Yehoshua nodded, his eyes hardening with determination. He swore in his heart that he would fight, that he would tear the Arrysians apart for taking his friends from him.

With a newfound sense of purpose, Yehoshua stood up, his eyes locked on Yacov. "Let's go," he said, his voice firm and resolute.

***

A little bit intense right....
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Mae.