'Cause In The End, You Are Part of Who I Am

Messy Aftermath

Michael didn't shed a tear, though his fists trembled uncontrollably by the end of the session. And in return, Lucifer didn't scream, though a few whimpers and grunts escaped him, especially when his wings were brutally ripped apart and when the weapon basically flesh him out.

He knew this would be as traumatizing for Michael as it was for him. And since his brother had been generous in agreeing to his terms, Lucifer felt it was only right to make the process as "easy" as possible for the archangel.

The punishment lasted a full hour. Whereas, by the end of it, the walls, ceiling, and floor were painted in gold. It would have been an interesting modern art had he not recognized what the paint's true nature is.

Meanwhile, the subject of the punishment himself, barely breathing and still bleeding profusely, has lost consciousness somewhere in the middle of the ordeal.

Then again, who wouldn't?

Michael had broken every bone in his body, as he wasn't permitted to hold back in the slightest.

[The sinner must receive the proper punishment], that was his mission.

And this was why Michael had volunteered to be the Executioner. As a warrior, the archangel is known for being the swiftest and most effective in his method of killing. So, at least if he ended up giving mercy, that would be his own fau— well, it seemed there was no need to worry about that now.

"For heaven's sake, Luci." The archangel's pupils shook just as violently as his fists as he continued to stare at his masterpiece . He grumbles as if the fallen would have heard him, "Won't you ever stop being a fool?"

With how difficult it was for him to stand, one might have thought Michael had been injured in the struggle. But no, Lucifer had been docile despite his demonic appearance. The true weight of it all settled in Michael's heart, not his limbs.

Cling-clang-cling!

Heaving a heavy sigh, Michael got back on his feet. He knows that he can't stay here for too long for way too many reasons.

"The show must go on," he muttered, steeling himself once more.

With a snap of his fingers, his attire was instantly cleaned of blood and grime. He didn't look back, in fear of crumbling down once more, and instead, almost hurriedly, he walked out of the training room, where he then cast a special spell on every entrance and exit leading to it.

[A certain fallen angel wouldn't be able to leave, and a certain Nephilim wouldn't be able to even peek inside, let alone enter] —that was the spell is basically about.

He also placed a silencing spell, ensuring that whoever was involved next wouldn't be able to say anything to the promised halfling, until her father permitted to it.

It was his way of honoring his brother's wishes.

Feeling he'd done everything he could, Michael made his way to the front door, where he met his little— well, maybe not so little anymore —niece and her lover, the former exorcist. The way they immediately got all worked up was quite adorable.

However, when Charlie ran past him to search for her dear father, his heart tightened. 'I guess, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree,' he thought bitterly, unsure if he was smiling or grimacing—whatever expression his lips were trying to make, they were too twitchy to form properly.

"Why are you here?" The growling one-eyed girl dared to point her weapon at him.

Normally, such disrespect would be met with a fitting response, but honestly, he was too worn out to deal with her right now. So instead, he just cocked a brow.