Mother Earth.

Chapter 25: Conqueror.

Michael Huo.

The Church of Armageddon: St. Peter's Basilica,

The year 2173.

"You know what must be done!"

The grandeur of this once-holy site of Catholicism could and would never be understated. Winding pillars of bronze reached up to a roof underneath the arches of the ceiling of the Basilica where those with their arms outstretched where the most divine of them all stood to speak to those who followed. Painted figures on the curved ceiling, adorned with gold embroidered bars, and glass panels with depictions of the angels. Archangels, same as the one standing before the Papal Altar: Michael Huo, a Wilting Angel.

Alphonsus' words echoed in Michael's mind. "You know what must be done!"

Crushing down was the word of God, the long-dead Mother Earth; Alphonsus had always known She would be resurrected, saying that it was the word Armageddon itself that Its child would usher the word that they will be saved.

They had already destroyed the statues that once stood tall in these halls, some just yesterday. Pieces of a marble cross were still left on the smooth, shimmering floors. The arching ceiling reached high above with golden lamps of light perched on stairs and along the rippling pillars. Sunlight peeked through the stained glass windows, red beams of light shining downward onto him, mixing with fiery orange, bleeding into his branching tattoos on his bare torso, feeble, decaying wings closed behind him where he knelt; one knee down before the one man who had heard the siren call of Armageddon. Alphonsus, arms outstretched to Michael, pale green hands tattooed with moss over them, midnight vestments embroidered with winding branches of Mother Earth's reach depicted up his sleeves, all reaching for the beating, wooden molten heart at the center of it all. Water gathered underneath set ablaze, with the earth below split in two across his black cassock. His bald head was the most recognizable; the fissure split down the earth, drawing new life from Her heart to make her reborn again, tattooed for all to see what would be, as foretold in their teachings. "Michael, your time has come, child."

Alphonsus' ragged voice reverberated in a low groan in the empty, grand halls. "What you've been born for, what you were made to do is nigh!"

Michael looked up at his grey eyes, ones full of intent. Banners of the bleeding heart swaying gently. "Your wings have wilted long enough, your purpose that Chris saw those years ago is to come to pass."

"What purpose is that, Cardinal Bishop Alphonsus?"

"Oh, you know what it is."

Alphonsus stepped down the magnificent steps, robes swaying with each step, down to Michael's level.

"Our Seer, Chris Chalut had given us his word before his untimely demise, that he found it."

Those words sent goosebumps all over Michael's skin.

"... Where?"

"Five years ago, he found Its child, one with Its name-"

He stared downward into Michael's wide eyes, grinning. "That girl with the name Armageddon."

Disturbing happiness came from that old face, his gray eyes lighting up.

"Speak, Angel-"

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Michael blurted out.

"For she was lost, now she is found. She was seen in Old Russia, flying to their Bastion. It is time she knows her true purpose, the future foretold since the First Dawn." Alphonsus said, his voice gargled and worn. "You are to leave with Karishma, and claim The Child of Armageddon! Your purpose, our Angel, is here!"