[Host is in the realm in between]
Aron opened his eyes, seeing the familiar white. It seemed his prayers were answered. His knees still in the white fog below, he stood up when suddenly the familiar golden light floated down from above.
"Michael?" he called.
The light was bright, shining golden. Aron's eyes, which could see past the world, still could not properly see through the light, but he could see his eyes, golden like his, which were soft before but much colder now.
"Aron," he finally answered. "Why do you call? I thought I gave you a notice, with my own order stamp on it," he beckoned.
Aron knew. He knew how Michael hated disobedience, and he would hate him more, given what he was going to say.
"Michael, I wish you would take that order back," he muttered.
"..." There was silence, utter silence. Michael huffed, his light shining more aggressively, a small indication of his mood.
[⚠️Warning⚠️]
His system flooded red once more. That simple subtle motion of Michael labeling Aron's system notifications. Aron swiped them away, as he wanted to come closer. "Michael, hear me before you judg—"
"You know I am doing this for you, right?" Michael voiced, cutting Aron off. "The moment we met before, I already realized your karma was hellishly low. Did I question you then?" he asked.
Aron gritted his teeth. Here he thought he had hidden it well, but that was just foolish thinking. He must have given him the dimension knife maybe because of the same reason.
"...No."
"Then? Why do you question me now?!" he bellowed. Those words alone shattered thunder in the realm. " And because of you and your karma, Your herald's fate is already fraying, Aron."
Michael breathed, as he turned back, walking among the fog. He waved his hand, the fog slowly dispersing, slowly getting thinner and thinner, even around Aron himself. The whole view of the planet surfaced, visible.
Aron paced around as he saw the earth as well, in awe at the glazing view. "Michael—"
"Adam and Eve are still missing, Aron," he proclaimed, his shining finger pointing back at Aron. "Earth has only one immortal left. Only one—you. You are the only hope for balance right now, and if that hope is lost?"
After those words, all of the earth below them started to spin faster, many portions of the countries and lands gradually exploding, monsters of the sea coming to land, giant demons hovering, flying, and throwing the world into chaos.
"And if your karma goes below what it is now, the words of the prophets will come true," he beckoned.
Aron listened. He wouldn't be so hardheaded here. He knew the herald of God was speaking the truth. The world would go awry as he continued his path, but there was something only he knew: the world would come to destruction even if he stopped, even if he went back and played softly, but the prophets wouldn't know that, as they always proclaimed they were right.
"I will accept your order, Michael," Aron beckoned.
The light shined brightly, now not of rage but of glee. "Finally, the hardheaded golden chi—"
"Not now, though," he interrupted.
"..."
"Michael, tell me how long have I lived, and how many missions have I completed in victory," Aron mentioned.
The silence remained, Michael's light going dimmer and dimmer. And seeing that, Aron walked closer and closer, placing his hand on Michael's shoulder. Aron's hand slowly burning.
"Aron, let go. You will hurt yourself," he voiced.
"I don't care," he said, letting his hand burn even more, his skin peeling off. "Trust me. Trust the man who did the impossible before, the one who brought the flood to purify the world, the one who guided all the prophets before," he beckoned.
Michael huffed, turning to Aron. "I always had a soft side for you, but what if your karma lowers and Lucifer takes you? If you enter hell, he won't let you go," he mentioned.
Aron smiled, gradually letting go of his shoulder. "I am your student. You forgot? If you can smite him down, so can I," he said with confidence.
Michael's dimming light came back, shining more and more. "Indeed you are. But I feel like that's not all you want," he mentioned.
Aron took out the dimension knife. "I want to trade."
"...With?"
"A page from the gospel, the page of equivalent exchange."
.
.
.
Meanwhile down below, the air was getting feisty; the winter and snow were faltering away, as the snow which should be everywhere was evaporating, the warm fog of vapour surrounding both of the heralds.
"Why! Why do you still care!?" James shouted, parts of his body in flames and scratches, but he just patted it away like dirt. His green eyes gazing at the red-haired woman on the ground, trying to stand up.
"Because he is finally here, with us," Khorn said, as she slowly stood up, her legs shaking, unable to hold her own weight. "So, I would be damned if I let you and your hatred ruin it," Khorn muttered, standing tall.
She knew her fire would not be effective, as James was the very image of resilience, ever so talented in the ways of a warrior. The one who inherited the 'charge' skill of Lord Aron, but she knew his weakness as she held her palm high, her divinity rising once more.
James felt the heat increase, so much so that he had to step back. "What are you up to now?" he questioned, gazing at her palm sparking a small flame—a white flame.
'That flame,' he thought, backing away more. 'The flame of the dwarves. How did she get her hands on the forging fire?' he wondered, but he would not back away.
"You think your little flame can hurt me, huh?" he bellowed, his own divinity churning.
Charge…
{Charging…76%}
Both of his hands started to glow, much brighter, with much denser divinity than before. James knew if he landed this, he couldn't control the outcome, but he had never thought the scaredy-cat redhead would stand tall like that.
'You have grown strong, Khorn', he thought, pressing his leg into the ground where snow and ice no longer existed, launching right at her.
"Come, James," Khorn whispered, pointing the white fire right at him, as she remembered the time she fought the son of Poseidon. When you attack, attack to destroy, not to defend. "Explosion."
"Wha—" James voiced in surprise, halting his attack and backing away quickly, but it was too late. The white flame engulfed them both.
Khorn felt the heat—so high even she herself felt it—the burn and the glistening of her skin, but this was essential, the only way to push him into a corner, making him hesitate so the mediator could reveal himself.
"Angel! DO IT NOW!"
From the sky, the hidden individual flew down like a star, his hands crossed together, the storming heat reaching him, some of his wings burning crisp. Finally, he knew—she was no ordinary herald, but a warrior. A warrior of the immortal. Taking out his staff, he crashed it right between them both.
"I, Zureil, the principality, in the name of Ureil the archangel, place my authority here and invoke the law of duel, with balanced strength," he muttered.
Hearing those words, James—half-burnt and barely regenerating—gritted his teeth, finally realizing why she had wasted so much divinity, weakening herself this much.
'I won't let you balance this duel,' he thought, standing up and rushing toward the angel. If the prayer activated with his dominion, he would be weakened to match his opponent—the balance she was aiming for.
"Sto—"
"Divine dominion," the angel muttered, as the world started to change. Reality shifted, the world turning white around them, feathers flying everywhere, encasing both heralds inside his own realm.
James felt it—his divinity dropping, gradually decreasing and decreasing, so much so that more than half of it was gone. He turned toward the angel, rage blazing in his eyes.
"You! You broke your fucking oath! Why did you take si—"
"He took no sides," Khorn muttered, her one hand already charred dark from the explosion. "He is holding his role—being our mediator, bringing balance," she said, summoning white fire in her remaining usable hand.
James gritted his teeth. His charge, which could explode to a hundred, now couldn't even go past twenty. His body dulled, muscles loosening. Indeed, he was weaker now, matching strength equally with his sister.
Khorn didn't hesitate. She was not stronger, but she was an elemental, and now that brute strength and resilience were gone, it was her time to shine. She dashed toward James, encasing her fist in white fire, smacking him right on the cheek.
The man flew, his burnt body not even regenerating. She jumped again, landing right on him, using her remaining left fist to punch him again and again.
"Am—"
Boom!
"I—"
Boom!
"Weak now, brother," she said, breathing heavily, mashing James's face into a burnt mush. "I won, and you lost, brother—so accept defeat," she said, still breathing heavily.
James's nose bone and cheek were utterly visible, one eye burnt, the other staring at Khorn. "You've gotten… strong," he muttered. "But you still lack the two most important… things."
"Bold words from one who seems defeated. What is it then?" she asked.
"Haaa… experience, little one—experience," James heaved, his body trying to heal but failing. "…And loads and loads of… miracles," he said, churning in all the karma he had taken from the demigods.