Return Of The Machine

PROLOGUE

THERE  IS  NOTHING  LEFT  TO  KILL.
THERE  IS  NO  MORE  BLOOD.
HELL  HAD  WON.

Treachery, Hell's lowest layer, where the final battle had taken place. The place where all light had faded, where the last remnants of defiance were extinguished. A battle between an angel, once divine, and a machine from a forgotten world.

V1 stood before the lifeless body of Gabriel, the great angel who had fallen, his wings now scorched and broken, his divine light extinguished. V1's metallic frame, battered and sparking, remained motionless, its sensors fixed on the still form before it. Hours passed, and as they did, V1's systems began to shut down, one by one.

The machine was dying, slowly and painfully, its circuits burning out, its power fading. Yet, if V1 could feel anything, it would be satisfaction. Not only had it bested the greatest of angels, those who were supposed to surpass its creators in every way, but it had completed its one and only objective:

CURRENT  OBJECTIVE:                COLLECT  BLOOD  ( COMPLETE )

As V1 stood over Gabriel's corpse, Hell itself seemed to watch, savoring the scene as both the machine and the angel were slowly consumed by the infernal abyss, their forms dissolving into the treacherous ground.

V1's "life" ended in silence.

No Final Words.
No Concluding Statement.
No Point...

Perfect Closure.

T H I S  I S  T H E  O N L Y  W A Y  I T  S H O U L D  H A V E  E N D E D .

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Moon Light, a divine entity birthed from the NightWings' unyielding belief in the moons of Pyrrhia, one of the oldest and mightiest gods of the realm, characterized by her slim, graceful form and pristine white scales, found herself stunned as she gazed upon what was supposed to be the savior of Pyrrhia. But what stood before her was no scavenger, no dragon, nor any creature of this world.

It was a being forged from metal, an aberration in a land of flesh and scale. Smaller than a scavenger, it bore four arms on its left side and a singular one on its right, its form painted in hues of cold blue. Eight wing-like protrusions extended from its back, four on each side, glowing with an eerie yellow light. Its elongated head, devoid of eyes or mouth, held only a single yellow circle embedded at its front, glowing faintly in the dim light. Despite its lack of traditional features, Moon Light could sense a presence-ancient, cold, and drenched in a bloodlust that defied her understanding. A scent of blood clung to it, though it possessed no flesh to spill such a thing, no life to harbor such a hunger.

Was this steel abomination truly here to save Pyrrhia? Why was it made of metal? What were the strange symbols etched onto its chest and the side of its head? And how many had this thing killed to give off such an aura? She pushed these thoughts aside, gathering her divine authority.

"Creature of Steel, thou hast been summoned to save Pyrrhia. I beg of thee, please-"

Her words caught in her throat as the metal creature moved with a speed that defied her senses. She barely had time to react, swinging her powerful tail to knock it away, only to feel a shock as her tail was parried with precise force. The creature's movements were mechanical, yet unnervingly efficient. And then, from the glowing wing-like protrusions on its back, it drew forth strange, elongated sticks, their purpose as alien as the being itself.

Desperation clawed at her ancient heart. Using her powers, she glimpsed the future-a vision of her own mangled corpse, her divine essence reduced to nothing. Panic surged through her as she screamed the only words that might save her.