Golden light pierces the thunder-torn clouds above the Doldrio Plane, the lowest realm of the second heaven, casting dramatic radiance over a wasteland absolutely riddled with corpses of Nephilites.
Humanoid in form, with obsidian skin and four soot-colored wings, the Nephilites once stood beside angels, revered for their piety and unwavering devotion. Elevated to the heavens, they had basked in divine favor.
But now, betrayed by their own rebellion, they're meat in the dust. All felled by a single figure.
Livne Atniel.
Title: Skywrath Comforter.
He stands in the center of the massacre, robes unstained save for a few dramatic splashes of arterial punctuation. His wings, white and smooth, fold neatly behind his back like a man with manners. Small in size compared to the fallen giants around him, yet his fury has turned the entire plane into a monument of judgement.
"At last…" he says, and turns toward the last living Nephilim.
"This is your final chance for God's mercy," Atniel says, raising a fist. "Repent, dissident!"
His fist lands like a comet with something to prove. The blow cracks bone, shatters teeth, and echoes across the stillness of the blood-soaked field.
Yet the Nephilim, after one bloody hack, spits and sneers. "How long have you even worn that title, 'heavenly knight'? A decade? Two? You think that makes you God's voice? You're just a well-polished bootlicker. Go polish the horns of your masters, you celestial mutt."
Atniel's face tightens. Blood spatters across his robe as the Nephilim spits again.
As rage boiling within him, light begins to ignite around his right hand. His divine power compresses into a glowing knuckle that pulses with barely-restrained force, potent enough to rupture the heavens.
But before he can strike…
"No, Atniel! Not here!"
The voice comes from Midbar Elisha, his assigned companion, a radiant angel, composed yet fierce, now soaring toward him in a blur of white feathers and urgency.
Atniel glances, but simply ignores her warning.
He proceeds…
Booom!!!
His Sky-Cracking Punch lands like an angry god had enough with a fruitless barren land, crushing the Nephilim's skull and collapsing the ground beneath them.
A shockwave bursts from the impact, rippling outward across the Doldrio Plane. The force rends the air and splits the surface, tearing open glowing fissures that bleed blinding light into the space between worlds.
"You fool!" Elisha snaps as she lands beside him. "This is the base layer of the second heaven. That punch probably tore into the realm below!"
Keeping his expression nonchalant, Atniel wipes blood from his face. "Well, that was the last of them. Let the mortals enjoy a few centuries of peace."
But as the rift pulses, Elisha's expression darkens. Her eyes narrow, noticing something in the distance. Among the corpses, one Nephilim stirs.
"Atniel! There's still one left!"
With urgent haste, Atniel rushes forward and flips the Nephilim's massive body over. But there is nothing. The body is hollow, abandoned, like a vessel cracked open from within.
"His essence must have descended," Elisha murmurs, staring at the glowing fissures. "Through the crack you made."
Atniel's eyes sweep across the battlefield, where hundreds of bodies lie scattered in the dust, the aftermath of his divine fury. He has slain them all. Yet despite the victory, an uneasy hollowness coils in his chest.
"Something's wrong," he murmurs.
He replays the battle in his mind, their taunts, their mocking smiles, their brazen defiance. They hadn't fought like cornered beasts. They'd stood their ground with the poise of a trap already sprung.
There a single detail gnaws at him. Not one had turned their back or begged for mercy. Not one enemy had tried to flee, except the last one at that very last moment.
"They used me," he grumbles, voice laced with quiet fury.
Elisha blinks, startled. "What do you mean?"
Atniel's brow furrows, eyes locked on the splintered plane ahead. The wound in the ground still pulses like a heartbeat that refuses to die.
"They'd been looking for this." he says quietly. "They wanted to descend to the lowest realm. But as divine beings, they couldn't. Not without incarnation." He gently shakes his head. "Not without the aid of angels like you. And there's no way you would've opened the path for rebels like them."
He exhales slowly, the realization settling like ash in his chest.
"So they baited me… made me do it for them."
A chill laces Elisha's spine, a chill from the creeping sense she's become a very unwilling accomplice.
"But… why?" she whispers. "Why sacrifice everything… just to descend to the lowest realm?"
Atniel takes a step back from the hollowed corpse beside him, throat tight with something he can't name.
"You should report this," he says at last, voice quiet. "To the higher dominions."
Without a word, Elisha raises a hand to the earring on her left ear. Her eyes glaze, distant, already reaching beyond the veil.
Moments pass, tension settles.
And then…
Srrnk!
Atniel flinches as a radiant parchment tears into existence before Elisha, unfolding midair like a divine scroll.
He's seen this ritual many times before; Elisha receiving messages from the higher realms, scripture forming in sacred light. But never once has he seen the message itself.
Acting on impulse, he reaches out and snatches the parchment from the air. He scans it, expecting holy runes or angelic calligraphy.
But…
"What… is this?" he mutters.
He finds only cascading columns of numbers, symbols shifting too fast to follow, glowing and bending like code, constantly reshaping, calculating something beyond his grasp.
"I don't understand a single…"
Elisha squints as she snatches the parchment back from his hands. She holds it before her, gaze locking onto the shifting symbols. Then, her voice shifts.
User I.D.: SKYWRATH_COMFORTER_01
Level: 3-H Probation.
Directive: Locate target entity [NEPH-93].
Location ping: ARDH.SPHERE.073.
Initiate: Incarnation Sequence.
Time allocation: 1-H Local, 7-Y Host.
Once she finishes, the parchment simply dissolves into mist.
Atniel frowns. "What was that supposed to mean?"
Elisha's voice returns to normal. "A direct order. That last Nephilim escaped to Ardh #73. Your home planet. You're being sent after him."
Atniel groans. "Seriously? I worked decades for my heavenly pension and now I'm getting punted back to dirtball duty?"
Elisha softens slightly. "That world may have fallen into ignorance by now. This is a chance to elevate your rank even higher. Every soul you lead back to the path earns you another divine merit."
He sighs… then perks up. "How much time do I get?"
Elisha lifts her hand. In that instant, dust stirs at her feet, rising and spiraling until it shapes into a glowing hourglass.
"One hour, it equals 7 years there," she says. "Quick! Prepare yourself for incarnation."
Atniel arches a brow. "You're not just dropping me in?"
"No. Last time someone tried that, we almost lost a continent. Can't have you vaporizing a city just by sneezing."
He exhales, then smirks. "So… rebirth it is. Wonderful. Can't wait to shock everyone with a newborn reciting ancient poetry."
She squints, then adds with a flat tone, "You can't go in as a baby either. That Nephilim has been down there for decades by now. He's fully grown. We don't have time to wait eighteen years for you to grow teeth, let alone a sword arm. I'll put you into someone's freshly deceased body."
Atniel grimaces. "Dropping me into a corpse? That's… charming."
"Don't be dramatic," Elisha says, flipping her wand. "Think of it as renting a vessel with quick-start mode."
Atniel sighs. "Fine. Pick me a good vessel then. Something heroic. Something that says messianic gravitas."
Then he strikes a grand pose, chest puffed, one hand on his hip, sword raised to the sky, wings outstretched in full angelic flair.
"How's this for my eternal image?"
Elisha ignores him. She lifts her wand and gently touches it to his chest.
"Wait, wait…!"
"What now?"
"Can we wait a second?" Atniel scratches furiously at his groin. "I've got an itch…"
Sadly, the petrification begins instantly. His body calcifies from the point of contact, locking him in place.
"No! Elisha, please…! Not while I'm scratching!"
Elisha sighs and turns away.
"Oh no…" Atniel murmurs, voice fading as the petrification continues.
"My legacy… The Skywrath Comforter, frozen mid-itch…"