Trails in The Sea of Souls

Volume I - Chapter III

A single wave of his hand... that's all it took to render the enemy's feeble attempts to attack completely ineffectual; their weapons were reduced to little more than shattered metal and splintered wood, as if their very existence had been unwritten by a power beyond their comprehension. Torrents of ethereal fire erupted forth from a thousand radiant pinions — divine flames as pure and righteous as the first light that had ever graced the dawn of creation — blessed conflagrations that surged like a tidal wave of sanctified fury, consuming the darkness that dared to defy their brilliance.
 
Those sacred flames danced like the whispers of seraphs, a manifestation of divine retribution that licked at the very essence of the forest, transforming the atmosphere into an altar of fervent purification; it was a holy wrath that engulfed the surroundings with a brilliant incandescence, as if the heavens themselves had descended to cleanse the world of its impurities.

I have witnessed the unfolding of creation long before your mortal existence was kindled by his divine will... my eyes beheld the emergence of life from the cosmic symphony of stars, and I have borne witness to His grace as He lifted you from the mire of your origins, finding within you a spark of potential...

Amusement painted the Archangel's features, a serene smile tugging at the corners of his lips — a smile that held the tranquil wisdom of ages past; the terror radiating from the men before him — their faces caught in a tableau of fear and awe — only heightened the beauty of the moment, their realization of the vast gap between their power a testament to their insignificance... yet at the same time, his mirth was laced with an unspoken sorrow, a lament for the souls who had strayed so far from the path of righteousness.

You — all of you — have been given a chance to flourish under His benevolent gaze, to carve a destiny guided by the very hands that had shaped the cosmos itself... and yet, you squandered that divine gift, allowing the darkness within your hearts to warp your souls into instruments of suffering and despair; you did not hesitate to wield it with arrogance... with avarice, and with cruelty.

The words that flowed from his lips held a cadence of ethereal music, a symphony of divinity and reverence that resonated with the very essence of the forest; they carried a weight of solemnity, an echo of the eternal truths that had shaped the universe since time immemorial.

Know that within the sacred tapestry of existence, every soul is but a thread woven into the cosmic fabric... a thread that may choose to shine with the brilliance of stars or become entangled in the web of darkness...

Minato continued to stand within the burgeoning inferno, a figure of serene determination amidst the sanctified conflagration, the fire not daring to singe even a single strand of his hair; the flames, borne of Helel's divine might, danced around him in an intricate ballet of purification, each flicker a testament to the holiness of the Persona that he had summoned into being — his presence exuded a sense of calm amidst the divine chaos, an unwavering pillar that stood tall even as the world around him burned with the brilliance of heavenly wrath.

Your choices — misguided and malevolent — have led you astray from the path of virtue; beset by the temptations and frailties of the world, your souls were tarnished by the stain of malevolence and greed...

Helel's gaze shifted, his eyes locking onto each individuals as if peering into the depths of their very souls, unraveling their existence to unveil the truth hidden beneath the layers of deceit and darkness. A profound stillness enveloped the clearing, the silence punctuated only by the crackling flames of divine retribution... and as if compelled by an unseen force, their knees buckled beneath them, their bodies sinking to the ground like supplicants before the altar of divinity. Their arms fell slack at their sides, their fingers no longer possessing the strength to clench or grasp; their eyes, once filled with arrogance and malice, now reflected naught but a glimmer of humility and fear, a realization of the boundless chasm that separated their mortal insignificance from the celestial might before them. It was as if an invisible hand had taken hold of their very essence, bending their wills to the overwhelming majesty of the Archangel's presence.