Her Champion

Chapter One

Word Count: 2320

Chapter one- The memory.

There was a battle. I was leading it. The blood that soaked the ground was golden and thick. I slashed through another enemy with the sword I had forged with my own hands. I was cut once again. The red blood seeped out, my armor holding back the other colors. Tears sprung to my eyes as I felt the pain after a few seconds. It wasn't detrimental, a shallow wound. I fought the warrior off and continued the slaughter that I was trained to do.

They were running now. They realized they couldn't keep up with me, that I was much stronger than them. That they were powerless against me. The genocide marched on; the bodies left behind me covered in golden ichor, feathers covered in gold and mud. It was too much for me to think about so I turned everything off and slashed through the net group that I found.

She told me that I was fighting a war. Me against the evil ones. They don't seem evil to me, but I'm a soldier right now. A soldier who doesn't think about the morals of her actions in case it drives her insane. She said that I was chosen by God, that God needed me to eradicate all corrupt celestial beings so that she could come back to Earth.

Primera says that's why I bleed different colors. Gold for Angelic being, red for humanity, and the thick black and purple goo that stardust shone in when the right light was on it. I still had the scar from when Primera showed me my destiny. The deeper the cut, the holier the blood. I stepped back, looking down at the red splotch that seeped through my armor.

Another sword was swung towards me. I quickly deflected it, a metal screech that sounded and alerted the other angels of our presence. These ones seemed to have mixed feelings about this like me. Some screamed, others didn't, and there were few that fought back. I wondered briefly if they could be saved, like in that human bible from the mortal realm. I realize that the bible in question is sexist, but some values could be applied. Maybe I'll ask the next batch if they will repent. If they will allow me to show mercy for them.

No, she wouldn't like that. Experimentation was not my job. My job was to step past the bodies I dropped. Golden wings covered in mud and gold. After a few centuries the humans will find these paths and dig for the golden metal that Angel blood turns into. After time, their entire bodies turn into gold and will be mined around 1849 in what future humans will call the Gold Rush of California. I dropped angels all over the world though. The "Californian Massacre" was just the largest assignment.

My sword was muddy and bloody. It was dark now, the sky reflected what my blood sometimes looked like. I wondered if I could stop for the night. No, Primera wanted this done and so it shall be unless I wanted my destiny shown to me again.

"Will you repent?" I asked the angel, days after the slaughter had started. He vigorously nodded his head yes before I separated his head from his body. The hope that shone in his eyes like stars was too much for me. I never asked again.

When it was finally over, and the bodies were buried, Primera hugged me tightly. I couldn't lift my arms, if I did I feared that I may hurt her from so much fighting. I was terrified to hurt her when she had done so much for me. She found me after God had chosen me as her Warrior of Earth. I was alone, my parents had died. Primera said that I was partially immortal; that my parents had been murdered by my mother's village. The villagers tried to kill me too but when they realized that they couldn't, they fled. Leaving me in a forest to die of exposure if I could not die of weaponry. Flawed logic, but Primera saved me, and raised me. She taught me what was wrong and what was right, what was really going on in the world.

When I was old enough she showed me my destiny for the first time. It hurt. It hurt a lot, but soon enough I became used to it. Whenever I couldn't do what she asked of me she showed me my destiny and persuaded me to do the job and not ask questions again. Waking up in the morning after that was harder, since I now was haunted by gory days and nights and the screams that followed the atrocities that I committed.