by Leo Ndelle
Keerim knew the moment he stepped out into the open, especially on Earth, Fazim would sniff him out like a hound. For now, he was unaware of Fazim’s abilities. But he would not let doubt and fear get the better of him. This former archangel just showed more courage and fearlessness than he, Keerim, had. The least he could do was stop running and face Fazim. Besides, for how long was he going to keep running? For how long was he going to keep hiding? If he truly wanted to be a leader at some point, then he must come out of his comfort zone and act like a true leader should.
“Just so we are absolutely clear, you are not asking me to be a part of your war with Michael or the creatures of Earth Realm, correct?” Keerim asked.
“Correct,” Beelzebub replied.
“You are only asking that I take you past the auric shield and, if need be, you will be my backup. Correct?” Keerim asked.
“Correct,” Beelzebub concurred. “And just so you know, having me as an ally means you have Hell Realm as an ally as well. Hell Realm is at my command.”
Keerim saw renewed hope, though it was slim, at finally making his vision come true. An army from Hell Realm may not have been what he had envisioned, but he had to start from somewhere. He had to admit, this creature sitting in front of him was good at taking chances and gambling. The creature did make a good offer, though. Too bad he would not last even a blink with Fazim or any paradin for that matter. But this creature could serve as a distraction when he, Keerim, finally faced Fazim. Keerim then nodded and rose from his seat. Beelzebub did the same. He locked eyes with Beelzebub before finally bowing and then extending his right arm. Beelzebub did the same. Both creatures clasped forearms.
“We have an agreement then,” Keerim said firmly.
“I’m looking forward to working with you, Keerim,” Beelzebub affirmed.
“When do we head to Earth?” Keerim asked, releasing Beelzebub’s forearm, and not bothering to issue a follow-up to Beelzebub’s previous statement.
“I will inform Luceefa and Metatron about our agreement,” Beelzebub replied. “And then we should be good to go very soon.”
Neither cherub nor fallen archangel noticed the extra presence in the domain while they were having the meeting. The Scribe smiled and teleported away as soon as Beelzebub left Keerim’s domain. Everything was going according to plan. He appeared on a bench in a city park and sat next to a gentleman who appeared to be people-watching.
“Are you ready for the next step?” The Scribe asked.
“Ready when you are,” Marlo replied.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
MISCELLANEOUS
THE DESIRE TO know is a powerful driving force behind the collective consciousness of an evolved species. At times, these creatures are willing to pay any price up to, and including, the possibility of self-annihilation, in the name of the ‘greater good’. However, when the line between sanity and psychosis, between benevolence and malice, between survival and greed blurs or disappears, then there is a serious problem with the collective psyche of the species, regardless of the justification. This ‘serious’ problem with the psyche is a preface to a cancer growing in the collective consciousness of the realm.
Before the creatures of Earth Realm did the first test of the atomic bomb, there was the fear that the atomic bomb could destroy the entire realm. Yet, the creatures of Earth Realm still proceeded with the test. Earth Realm survived the test. Before the creatures of Earth Realm attempted the first subatomic particle collision, there was the fear that the subatomic particle collision could result in a black hole that would swallow up the realm. Yet, the creatures of Earth Realm went ahead with the experiment. Earth Realm survived.
The creatures of Hell Realm were no different. Desperate times did call for desperate measures and survival was a natural instinct. However, this desperation was not based on the need to survive. Rather, this desperation hailed from the need for dominance, personal gain and, most of all, pride. Luceefa and Metatron chose a remote, uninhabited area in the realm to attempt the unthinkable, mainly for security reasons given the fact that history was about to be made. Yes, Hell Realm could be destroyed, and even if Hell remained intact, every single creature in Hell Realm could be obliterated. In other words, this mission could spell either success or self-annihilation. There was only one way to find out.
Of course, they were afraid, mortified and petrified! Most of all, they had nothing more to lose if they failed, but everything else to gain if they succeeded. They were going all-in. Michael used to take his inner council members to the spawn sanctuary occasionally and that was how Metatron could summon one that looked like the spawn sanctuary in Celestia. Luceefa and Metatron walked in and chose a location for the Zarark. This was a preliminary test to find out if the Zarark would accept its new home. If the Zarark did not glow upon contact, then there would be no point in continuing. However, if it did glow, then there would much work ahead.
Luceefa retrieved the Zarark and held it reverently in her hands. She gently brushed it with the fingers of her left hand as if touching this sacred artifact with any more pressure would destroy the artifact or something like that. She heaved her shoulders and gently placed the Zarark on its designated spot, backed away from it and stood next to Metatron.
Metatron and Luceefa waited for what felt like an eternity but there was no glow. They waited. Still, there was no glow. Metatron interlaced the fingers of his left hand with the fingers of Luceefa’s right hand. He closed his eyes and felt her turn to face him before she turned back to face forward. He sensed she had also closed her eyes. They focused as one on the feeling of the energy that resonated in their essences during their period of copulation.
As the same energy coursed through their individual essences, they heard the sanctuary hum in resonance, accepting the energy that flowed from their essences. Even without opening their eyes, they felt the Zarark was glowing. The glow felt different, but it was there, nonetheless. Slowly, Metatron and Luceefa opened their eyes and witnessed the first successful step of their endeavors. The moment had come to embark on the next phase of their mission. Together, they visualized what they wanted to spawn and let the Zarark do the rest.
A tiny sphere of light appeared and hovered above the Zarark. It then floated towards Luceefa and Metatron and stopped in front of them. Then, the sphere of light grew bigger until it was bigger than either of the two fallen archangels. The sphere of light began to peel off slowly from top to bottom, revealing the result of their spawn. They had expected to see an angel but what they had spawned was a variation of their expectation.
The creature that stood in front of them was neither angel nor demon. It was slightly taller and bigger in stature than a paradin and looked like a genderless crossover between a more physically impressive paradin and a wingless, less exotic-looking angel. Luceefa and Metatron were not afraid of it though, even as its purple orbs seemed to burn holes into theirs as it darted back and forth between the two of them. Luceefa turned towards Metatron and Metatron smiled.
“I visualized a slightly less beautiful version of you,” Metatron said. “And you visualized a taller, stronger version of Keerim.”
“Thought we should have some insurance,” Luceefa concurred. “In case Keerim decided to do something unsavory to us. You never know.”
“Always thinking ahead,” Metatron complimented Luceefa.
Luceefa cautiously walked towards the new creature. She fearlessly met its gaze and the creature seemed to succumb to her. Thanks, Metatron, she thought.
“Do you know who you are?” Luceefa asked the creature.
“I am neither angel nor paradin,” it replied in a hollow, coarse voice. “I am hellspawn.”
Luceefa had another possible explanation for the outcome of their first spawn. Keerim had been keeping the Zarark within his essence. Therefore, he must have left an esoteric print on the Zarark, which must have rubbed off on Luceefa’s when she handled it. The Zarark was designed for Celestia, home of the angels. Thus, i
n spawning this new creature, the original design of angels imprinted into the Zarark by the Shemsus was changed by Keerim’s esoteric print, resulting in the hellspawn.
“What is your purpose?” Luceefa asked.
“Destroy the Realm of Celestia!” it replied in the same hollow, coarse voice.
Even before she turned around to face Metatron, Luceefa could feel his grin of success on her back. The creature was a crossover between a paradin and an angel, but it bore the common vision of Luceefa and Metatron, its creators. This spelt the ultimate success of Luceefa’s and Metatron’s mission.
“See if you can spawn some more of them,” Luceefa stepped aside.
“Alone?” Metatron was taken aback by Luceefa’s request. “It took the two of us to spawn this one.”
“And the Zarark has a new design for spawning,” Luceefa rebutted as she gestured towards the hellspawn. “Just give it a try.”
Metatron saw her point and went ahead to spawn another. It looked identical to the first.
“What are you?” Metatron asked.
“I am neither angel nor paradin,” it replied in a hollow, coarse voice. “I am hellspawn.”
“What is your purpose?” he asked.
“Destroy the Realm of Celestia!” it replied in the same hollow, coarse voice.
Metatron spawned five more and obtained the same results.
“How can we fail,” Luceefa said and took Metatron by the back of his neck, “when fate is on our side?”
Luceefa kissed him passionately on the lips and Metatron returned the favor. They were both overjoyed to have exceeded all expectations. Luceefa gently broke off their kiss.
“Celestia will have no answer for this!” Metatron exclaimed with a grin.
“You keep spawning and I will return shortly,” Luceefa said firmly.
“Where are you going?” Metatron asked.
“To pay Celestia a visit,” Luceefa replied.
After explaining her reasons why, she teleported away, leaving a very satisfied, happy and busy Metatron behind.
***
“Watch your step everyone!” the tour guide spoke into her walkie-talkie. “It is still easy to twist or even break an ankle on these rocky roads. You’d think that after 2,000 years of pilgrims and tourists walking this route, these streets would be all smooth by now. Imagine walking through these narrow streets with a heavy cross on your shoulders.”
Jerusalem, the holy city; a hotspot for pilgrims and tourists from around the realm, most of whom journeyed here for religious reasons. These were the streets on which their lord and savior, Jesus Christ, walked during his final hours on Earth Realm on his way to his crucifixion. Among the mélange of pilgrims and tourists, there was one who was there only to relive history.
Not much had changed since the last time he was here. Many of the structures were still intact, but he could see the aftermath of the big earthquake. He toured with the crowd, just because. He was neither in search of spiritual edification nor a miracle. His existence itself was a miracle and he had the Great One to be thankful for. It had been two millennia of trials and tribulations thus far. He focused on the tour guide. She appeared to know so much but in fact, she knew so little. The realm did not know a damn thing! All they knew was a very insulting variation of the truth.
“And this is where he was crucified, ladies and gentlemen” the tour guide’s voice crackled through her walkie-talkie.
Even before she said those words, a few tourists dropped to their knees and started praying while others whipped out the cameras and cell phones and started taking selfies and videos for their social media. The man separated himself from the crowd and moved about twelve meters to the right.
No! THIS is where he was crucified, he thought.
Marcus dropped to a knee and placed a palm on the ground. The blood of the Great One was no longer there but he could still feel the residual energy of that holy blood. He was so immersed in the moment that he was oblivious to the rest of the realm. The emotions were threatening to rip him apart at the level of his essence. The tour moved on but he did not join them and no one noticed, because no one ever noticed his presence in the first place.
“You must be the condemned one,” said a stranger as he loomed over Marcus.
Marcus did not as much as acknowledge the stranger’s presence.
“You know why I am here,” the stranger said.
“I knew why you are here long before you were ever born, Marlo,” Marcus replied and stood up.
Marcus was about three inches shorter than Marlo was.
“How did you know my name?” Marlo was genuinely surprised.
“Who put you on this path, you poor fool?” Marcus asked rhetorically. “It must be The Anomaly. Only he can manipulate a sad soul like yours into suicide.”
“And what makes you think I even have a soul to begin with?” Marlo asked, feeling the sting of the stranger’s insult.
Marlo recalled he had just received his soul, or was it just A soul, from Yehuda and realized the stupidity of his rebuttal to Marcus. He was grateful Marcus was ignorant of the situation, or so he assumed.
“Do you even know what you seek, Marlo?” Marcus asked calmly.
Marcus ignored Marlo’s foolishness and stupidity. They were all the same, every single human who had decided to do what Marlo was here to do.
“Of course, I do,” Marlo replied impatiently. “Listen! I do not have the time for mind games. Just hand it over and your death will be quick and painless.”
Marcus stepped to the left and lifted his head upwards.
“It was here I stood when I pierced his side,” Marcus said. “It was here I stood when his blood restored my sight. It was here I stood when I saw everything that was going to happen up to the point where you shall have what you seek.”
“So you have seen your death by my hands,” Marlo interjected. “Why then do you prolong the inevitable, stranger?”
“Marcus,” Marcus turned to face Marlo. “My name is Marcus.”
“Because I care about the name of a soon-to-be dead man,” Marlo scoffed and zipped towards Marcus with his arms extended.
Marlo zipped right through Marcus. He raged and tried again. The result was the same. He was frustrated.
“That which you seek can only be given,” Marcus said calmly. “It can never be taken. You still have time to return whence you came. You can choose a different path for yourself, Marlo.”
“If it can only be given, then you will give it to me one way or another,” Marlo snarled and boiled with frustration.
The Scribe conveniently forgot to mention how powerful this stranger was.
“Did The Anomaly tell you why he wanted you to obtain what I have?” Marcus asked.
“No and I do not care,” Marlo snarled. “All I know is that I could use it to end the one responsible for killing my children.”
“What you seek must not be used for vengeance,” Marcus explained. “It is not an instrument of violence. Everyone who has used it for violence did not meet a good end. Nothing good can come out of the violence you seek. I assure you that The Anomaly does not share in your interest in vengeance. He has an agenda far greater than what you can possibly imagine and what you seek is one of the keys he seeks to bring about his agenda to fruition. If he succeeds, there will be nothing left and I mean that literally.”
“Be that as it may,” Marlo scoffed, “as long as I get what I want, the rest of the realm can burn to the ground for all I care.”
“Last chance, Marlo,” Marcus offered. “Walk away.”
“Just give it to me, will you!” Marlo screamed.
No one noticed the exchange between Marlo and Marcus as both of them had shielded themselves in cloaks of invisibility. Marcus stared at Marlo briefly and sighed. He then placed his right hand on his chest and his fingers dug into his skin, followed by his entire right hand. As he pulled out his hand, a bright yellow light coalesced to form the tip of a spear attached to a broken
piece of wood that was about a foot long. Marcus then held out the spear of destiny towards Marlo.
“I have seen what this spear has done to many people,” Marcus said. “From the poor, the rich, the weak, the strong, leaders and the led. None of them ended well. If you still want this spear, it is yours.”
Marlo immediately grabbed the spear but Marcus held it fast.
“I only ask one thing of you, the same request I have made to everyone who took or who attempted to take it from me,” Marcus added. “Please, for your sake, do not use it to kill me.”
Marcus let Marlo have the spear. Marlo held the spear in his hand, looked at Marcus and then back at the spear. He turned around to walk away but zipped back towards Marcus and plunged the spear into Marcus’ heart. He stared into Marcus’ eyes as Marcus’ life ebbed away slowly until Marcus collapsed onto the ground and evaporated like mist in the morning sun. Marlo brought the spear of destiny closer towards his face as The Scribe appeared close to him.
“I have the spear,” Marlo said as if he was in a dreamlike state.
The power and energy beaming from the spear of destiny was already affecting him at the esoteric level.
“I can see that, Marlo,” The Scribe replied sarcastically. “Now, I close another chapter!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
AN UNEXPECTED GUEST
“PALUBIEL, MADAM!” AN angel called out via telepathy. “Please, come right away!”
Palubiel appeared on the scene and found eight angels surrounding an intruder with their weapons drawn. She made her way through the barrier and loomed over the intruder.
“If I had my way,” Palubiel seethed through clenched teeth as she ordered the other angels surrounding the intruder to stand down by a wave of her hand.
“Looks like someone got a promotion,” Luceefa replied with a smirk.
Palubiel gestured for every other angel and archangel close by to lower their weapons, which they did. Her message was clear. She did not need anyone’s help to end this rebel.
