Divine Culling Protocol: Initiated
Rain poured from the heavens like a divine flood—cleansing, cold, and merciless. Across the city's fractured skyline, a holy sigil shimmered in gold light, pulsing like a heart ready to strike.
Inside the ruined chapel, Flare felt it first. The glitch.
System Error: Incoming Threat Detected… Probability of Survival: 0.002%
He winced, the metallic static in his head crackling like shards of glass.
"They're here," he muttered, rising to his feet.
Aria's expression shifted instantly. "How many?"
He turned toward her, and for once, even Flare Kross—the defiant, unkillable bastard—looked grave.
"Not how many. Who."
A brilliant spear of light tore through the sky and slammed into the street outside like a meteor. Stone shattered. Wind howled. From the crater emerged a silhouette—tall, clad in white flame, with six radiant wings fanned wide behind him.
Gabriel.
Archangel of the First Trumpet.
Executioner of Heaven's Divine Culling Protocol.
"I thought he was still in the Godplane," Aria hissed.
"Guess Heaven's getting desperate," Flare said. "They're sending big guns now."
The door exploded inward as Gabriel's voice thundered like war drums across the city.
"By decree of the Seven Seals, the Unchosen shall be purged. Step forward, Flare Kross, and accept your annihilation."
Flare spat to the side.
"Nah. I like this meat suit too much."
Gabriel extended a hand. Reality bent. The chapel's floor cracked beneath Flare's feet.
Aria drew her blade. "We can't fight him. We have to run."
"No," Flare said quietly. "We have to make a point."
Aria turned. "You can't win."
"I don't have to. I just need the world to see that I didn't kneel."
With no system blessing, no divine weapon, no sacred aura—Flare stepped into the rain.
Lightning wrapped around Gabriel's wings as his divine lance materialized.
The ground itself rejected Flare's existence.
But he still smiled.
"Come on, Heaven's golden boy. Let's dance."