His wrath.

He boomed in a voice discovered on the battlefield. “Unhand the holy man, foul creatures.”

The pope’s eyes widened as they fixated on the glowing Metatron.

The imps hissed after which dropped the pope, who shrieked, solely to be caught by a distinct set of imps. Who additionally dropped and caught. The creatures performed a sport and drew consideration. Individuals appeared to gawk from home windows and on balconies. They converged on the street as effectively, staring upwards on the unfolding drama caught within the roving spotlights the guards manipulated.

Gunshots rang out, and an imp fell, together with a cardinal.

The male in query didn’t scream when he hit the arduous floor. Pulverized on influence.

It led to these watching exclaiming in horror. Metatron needed to cease this.

Metatron hovered and projected his voice. “Unholy creatures, you’ve gone too far. Unhand His Holiness without delay.” He used the honorific cognizant as a result of he needed the pope—nonetheless annoying—on his aspect.

The imps cooperated slightly too effectively, letting go of the pope, who plummeted with a yell that reduce off as Metatron solely barely managed to seize maintain, slowing his descent. He dropped the pope in a courtyard filled with armed guards, who rapidly circled the person.

He’d cope with him after he dealt with the imps dealing with him with slavering jaws and prolonged claws.

For some cause, a human expression slipped previous his lips. “Convey it.”

The imps took it as an invite to combat, and never solely did all of them converge on him without delay, however additionally they dropped the remaining cardinal. This one didn’t splat however moderately hit a roof and rolled, solely barely catching a ledge. He’d higher maintain on as a result of Metatron didn’t have time to rescue.

Because the imps swooped in on Metatron, he took care of them, slashing and slicing, his physique in steady movement, his protect holding regular regardless of the numerous blows. Given the way in which they crowded, he landed atop a turret to battle, jaw gritted as he hacked, the imps seemingly an countless wave regardless of their useless our bodies turning to ash.

It took all of his power to maintain preventing till he went to swing his sword and realized no imps remained. He took a second to lean on the pommel of his weapon and surveyed the world round him. The sky appeared clear, however given the darkness of evening, that didn’t imply something. He heard no screams, however he did notice the murmur of voices and see the numerous cameras aimed in his course, taping his actions. Good. Allow them to see an angel preventing evil. It could make it tougher for the pope to disclaim their existence.

Talking of whom… He returned to the palace, touchdown within the courtyard and dealing with a pair of weapons geared toward him.

“The place is the pope?” he requested.

One soldier swallowed arduous earlier than saying, “What are you?”

“God’s voice on Earth. Now the place is he?”

The soldier pointed on the palace and the door main inside. Metatron didn’t let the lock on it get in his manner. He sliced his manner by and located the disbeliever in white on his knees praying. “…Heavenly Father, forgive me my sin.” The guards within the room appeared confused, some elevating their weapons to take purpose, others dropping to their knees and bowing their heads.

To keep away from damage, he stored his protect and HALO raised as he introduced, “God hears your prayer, however he has but to forgive, given your impertinence in refuting his messenger and warriors.”

His phrases drew the pope’s startled gaze, which rapidly turned to concern, as he did the signal of the cross. “Get thee again, Devil.”

“Hardly Devil,” Metatron snorted. “I’m an archangel of God. A warrior in his Military of Gentle.”

“Show it.”

“It isn’t I who must show his price to God however you. Refuting his phrase. Ignoring his blessed warriors.” He pointed his sword. “By difficult his choir, you’ve aided the enemy. Are you an agent of Hell?”

“By no means,” the pope blustered, struggling to his ft. “I’m the holiest of males. God speaks to me!”

“That’s a lie,” Metatron’s flat reply. “Should you have been listening to God, you’ll have by no means disavowed our existence. You’d be aiding us in our holy battle in opposition to Hell as a substitute of strengthening the enemy.”

The pope refused to provide in. “How do I do know you’re his angel?”

The repeated stubbornness had even the pope’s personal troopers eyeing him with disbelief.

However trying on the sweating man, it hit Metatron. “ I converse the reality; you simply don’t care.”

“I do care,” the pope huffed. “I care about residing. Hell is coming, and Heaven isn’t coming to assist us. And a handful of angels received’t cease it.”

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