The Cosmic Spark

by Leo Ndelle

  And with those words, The Scribe melted away into nothingness.

  The Beast knew he could not take on all of Shi’mon’s team at the same time. Previous experience had taught him that and, now that they had a guardian with them, who knew what they could be capable of. He would need more backup and a distraction in order to upgrade himself. He remembered what The Scribe had once told him; it had been a brief meeting but it also partially explained why he kept returning to this same location. There was no denying that something very powerful was beneath the ground on which they all stood. Even before The Scribe’s stupid speech just now, he could feel it and he knew the guardian could feel it too. Now it was just a matter of who amongst them would be the first to access that power. Beelzebub had every intention to be that person.

  Keerim felt the energy and power coming from the ground. Innately, he knew that if he could access that power, then he would have a significant advantage over Fazim. Defeating and ending her would be a great victory, but first, he needed that upgrade. The Scribe had promised to help and though Keerim did not trust that creature one bit, he had to admit that The Scribe always kept his promises. Keerim was also aware that if he could feel that power, that energy, so could Fazim and maybe with her new status she was feeling it more strongly than he did. He just had to access that power before she did.

  “Let us make this even, shall we?” The Beast said and flared up.

  Patrick and Fazim felt it and knew instantly what had just transpired. The Beast had just released another wave of dark consciousness, much more intense than the first one. This time though, the dark consciousness was not aimed at the entire realm. It was aimed at the few thousands who had not been completely rid of their mark when Patrick had released a counteracting wave of consciousness. This new release hit them so hard that they became physically, emotionally, psychically and esoterically transfigured. In an instant, they morphed from human to upgraded demons. A few hundred could not take the transformation and imploded where they stood. But the rest of them were irreversibly transformed.

  These were psychos, rapists, child molesters, politicians, serial killers, men and women of the cloth, entertainers, practitioners of dark arts, the employed and unemployed, and the list went on. They came from all walks of Earth Realm life and answered to the call from the dark consciousness they now manifested. One-by-one they disappeared from wherever they were. They oscillated at higher vibrational frequencies for a second or two and when they appeared again within the humanly visible spectrum, they were made in the image of their maker, The Beast, their bodies smoldering in yellow-red flames.

  “Come to me!” The Beast called out to them.

  Thousands of demons appeared behind The Beast, growling and howling in lust for blood. Patrick, Fazim and Team Shi’mon took up battle stance, knowing exactly what was coming next.

  “Kill them!” The Beast commanded. “Kill them all!”

  ***

  “Are you ready?” he asked her.

  “Irrelevant!” she replied. “The cosmic countdown is almost complete.”

  He waited a moment and asked her again.

  “Are you ready?”

  She heaved her shoulders and finally tore her gaze from the white oblivion she was focused on. She turned around, met his gaze and smiled weakly.

  “Do you think this is all my fault?” she asked.

  “I think that everything happens for a reason,” he replied standing up and walking towards her. “I believe there is a purpose to everything.”

  She snickered a little.

  “You sound like someone I know,” she said.

  She placed her right hand on his right shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

  “But to answer your question, I have been ready from the very beginning. And now I ask you the same question.”

  “My situation is different from yours,” he replied. “Everything I have done, every choice I have made has included sufficient room for error and mistakes.”

  He covered her right hand that was on his right shoulder with his left hand.

  “You never had such a luxury, unfortunately.”

  “Be that as it may,” she gently removed her hand from his shoulder and stared blankly forward, “free will is something that eludes even me, sometimes.”

  “But this is not about free will, is it?” he asked.

  “No, Yeshua,” Akasha replied. “This is about the fate of Creation.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  BATTLEFIELD II

  PALUBIEL AND HER squadron were beyond surgical. Blows were never wasted. Within a short space of a moment, they lost a few but Hell lost far too many. Before the fight began, they were outnumbered 28-1. But now, as Palubiel flamed, sliced and ended many, Hell’s frontline only outnumbered them by 4-1. Palubiel and her squadron were tireless, merciless, ruthless and wrath personified. They were the living cries of many of their brethren who fell during the first war and the few who had fallen to this war. They were judgement!

  Eliel had his first experience in ending an existence. He recognized his opponent as a fallen archangel. The stance, demeanor, yapping and fighting style were remnants of a life this outcast used to be a part of. She was supposed to be some high ranking archangel and her moves were quite good for most, but sloppy from Eliel’s perspective. The fallen archangel telegraphed her moves so much that Eliel could predict the outcast’s next two moves. Eliel toyed with his enemy at first, out of hesitation. He knew this was war and he had to take out the enemy. Besides, every moment an archangel such as himself wasted was a moment that a brother or sister from Celestia could fall to the enemy. This was war! And this war was different from the first in many ways. As such, Eliel made the mental switch from angel of promise to soldier of Celestia.

  The first blow was easy! Eliel bladed his posture when his frustrated adversary attacked wildly in a straight downward arc with her sword. As Eliel bladed himself to the left, he dismissed his sword in his right hand and summoned one in his left. His attacker had put all her strength in her attack and could do nothing as Eliel’s sword drove into her right armpit, through her shoulder, neck and finally emerged though her left cheek. She froze, stunned by the knowledge of her impending death. Eliel met her gaze and saw the regret in her eyes before the pain spread throughout her body. He heard her sword clang on the ground before he flamed up his sword. He continued staring at his attacker as she burned into nothingness and her screams of pain were the final confession to his baptism into the life of a deadly archangel, one who would make Michael and Raphael look like younglings.

  Eliel felt the rush from his first kill. There was no turning back now. There was no holding back. He was possessed by something he could not describe; something he could only feel. He wanted desperately to rekindle the same feeling he had right after his awakening on Earth. That was power unlike anything he felt now and oh the things he could do with that power. But that power was not there anymore. It was gone the moment he prevented the first war. But why? Why could he not feel it anymore? What had happened to him?

  Eliel screamed in rage and frustration at himself and his brethren mistook his scream for a war cry. They joined him and screamed war cries of theirs before resuming the fight, feeling more invigorated by their future leader’s outcry. Yes, he was the next archangel supreme. Wings! He was the next leader of Celestia. He may have lost that invigorating energy. He may have lost that power! But, by Celestia! he still had his fighting skills and this war was the perfect playground. Eliel summoned his archangel battle flame and screamed again, filling the cores of his enemies with fear and awe. War was a good thing. No, war was a GREAT thing! Hell had brought a bounty of creatures for him to decimate; and he was going to enjoy every single moment of it!

  Uriel kept a watchful eye over Eliel as she ran down the ranks of Hell with ease. Eliel was the angel of promise, but he still had so much to learn. She observed him toying with Karael, one of the many archangels who defected to Hell. She sensed his conflict,
not the conflict of striking down a former sister but that of ending an existence altogether. She wished he could understand that this was war and there was no place for sentiments, especially during THIS war. Uriel saw her wish come true and was pleased, until she heard his scream. Oh no! she thought as other angels cheered him on and gave war cries. It’s the darkness! She screamed in her mind. It’s taking over him! Uriel cursed several times, knowing there was really nothing she could do except end as many creatures from Hell as possible, and hope for the best… for Eliel and, consequently, for Celestia.

  Hell’s army did vastly outnumber Celestia’s. However, Hell’s army was more quantity over quality while Celestia’s army was both quantity and quality. It did not take long before Hell’s number dwindled significantly to match Celestia’s. It was only a matter of moments before Celestia’s army outnumbered Hell’s and won the war. Luceefa would not have that. There was no stopping her as she tore down the ranks of Celestia as if they were younglings. The more she killed, the more the darkness in her became alive and the faster and more powerful she became. She was absolutely loving the gradual transmutation of her essence. She caught some movement from the corner of her eye and grinned. Finishing off her last three assailants in two blows, she slowly glided towards the source of her current joy.

  Palubiel rolled, leaped, zipped, teleported, punched, kicked and decapitated in a choreography that could only be executed flawlessly after a countless number of drills. Every movement was second nature. Headless bodies dropped and she never stopped, until she caught a glimpse of Luceefa gliding towards her. Palubiel met Luceefa’s hatred-filled gaze with one of hers and suddenly, the rest of the war did not matter anymore. Everything had converged to the singularity that was Luceefa. Finally, this outcast was going to pay for her crimes. Palubiel glided towards Luceefa and met her halfway. The two enemies dismissed their swords dripping with the life essences of fallen ones and summoned fresh swords.

  Luceefa and Palubiel charged at each other. There was no need for words. The only form of communication needed was that of combat. Luceefa rained on Palubiel and Palubiel rained back on Luceefa. Luceefa was shocked that Palubiel matched her in skill and summoned another sword. Palubiel summoned another sword as well and the fight resumed. Both archangels were skilled in using two swords. Every strike, every counter and every counterattack was deadly. Every evasion, deflection and redirection was a setup for a deadly response. This was a dance that held a promise of death.

  Luceefa slashed from down to up with her right hand and immediately lashed out with her right foot. As Palubiel deflected the sword, Luceefa’s right foot connected with Palubiel’s inner left knee, dropping Palubiel on her right knee. Luceefa then attacked downwards from right to left with both swords. Palubiel tried to execute a forward roll as she blocked the first sword but she was too slow. She screamed in pain as Luceefa’s other sword dug into her left shoulder, torso and emerge just above her right hip. Luceefa twisted her sword in a semi-circle and flamed it, eliciting more screams of excruciating pain from Palubiel. Luceefa wanted to yank her sword across Palubiel’s body but Palubiel’s armor was in the way. So, instead, she flamed up her sword, pulled it out and delivered a savage, left roundhouse kick to Palubiel’s right jaw, shattering it to many painful pieces.

  Palubiel’s head snapped violently to the side before she collapsed into a useless heap on the ground. She lay on the ground as angel light oozed out of her gory wound. She would need several moments to heal herself, moments that were an eternity as Luceefa towered over her, with a smile of satisfaction chiseled on her face. Palubiel was going to die at the hands of the fallen archangel she hated the most. Memories of the last rebellion flooded her mind; memories of a promotion to archangel, of great fights and of victory. It was so unfortunate that she was not going to live past the next few moments.

  The willpower to heal herself was there, but her body could not match that willpower. She was a fighter, a leader, a winging archangel! And she had fallen at the hands of another. Despite Luceefa’s reputation of being second best only to Michael, Palubiel still believed she could defeat Luceefa. Alas, she learned a harsh lesson: belief and reality were not usually the same thing. Palubiel felt Luceefa’s left hand wrap around the back of her neck and pull her face towards Luceefa’s snarly face. She did not even notice when Luceefa dismissed one of her swords.

  “You fought well, I’ll give you that,” Luceefa spoke with spiteful hatred. “But you were never a worthy adversary.”

  Palubiel’s head hit the hard ground as Luceefa let go of her head and loomed over once again.

  “Your end brings me no pleasure,” Luceefa sneered and raised her sword.

  There was a glimmer followed by a clang as Palubiel closed her eyes and waited for her end. She snapped her eyes open at the sound and saw Luceefa stagger backwards away from her. Palubiel continued healing herself as the shield that hit Luceefa spun around close to her body before coming to a stop. Palubiel managed a wry smile as Luceefa glared at her attacker, Palubiel’s savior. She squinted as Luceefa’s head moved back and forth between her and her savior, as if Luceefa was trying to decide on who to attack first. It seemed as if Luceefa finally made up her mind as she stepped away from Palubiel’s body. Palubiel could not believe her luck. She continued healing her body. She turned her head to the left to see who her savior was; and then, she erupted in laughter.

  “Finally,” Luceefa said.

  “Finally,” Michael agreed.

  And then, their bodies went ablaze with a pale, purple flame.

  ***

  The spawn of The Beast attacked Team Shi’mon without any strategy or tactic. They had only one thing in mind: to destroy the enemies of their maker. Fazim was not a member of Team Shi’mon, but that was not why she did not join the fight yet. Her quarrel was with the cherub on the other side. The spawn of The Beast were fast and strong, but they were no match for Team Shi’mon. The spawn of The Beast were neither Bright Eyes nor sinisters, but Team Shi’mon chose the default rout of decapitation to end these spawns.

  The apprentices went to work with precision and extreme prejudice. Headless demons fell on the hard, burning earth of the Sahara in reckless abandon before evaporating in smoldering embers. Miryam was a burning body of green flames that zipped through the demons, burning them away with flames supercharged by her latent Shemsu essence. The spawn of Beelzebub were no match for her. Kundalini had not taken over Yehuda’s body. Still, as his regular, upgraded self, he breathed the Breath of Life on many a demon as he zipped among them. The demons burned away at the slightest contact with this infused chi energy breathed by Yehuda.

  Sasha started with close-range weapons like katanas and daggers. There was a bigger thrill to a close-range kill than using long-range weapons. However, she recalled that she could summon the Breath of Life, just like Yehuda. Killing the demons that way was boring but more efficient. Thus, Sasha made the switch. She noticed Sarael burned and used her whip on the demons. He envied Sarael’s grace of execution. There was a flair about the way Sarael cracked her whip, rendering these creatures headless and even slicing them in twain from head to groin. Both halves of these sliced demons would burn away even before they hit the ground. Whatever that fire around Sarael’s body was, Sasha wanted it.

  Shi’mon felt a pulse of something alien radiate from his body. He had no idea what it was, but he loved it. The pulse seemed to cast him into a reality that was separate from that which everyone around him was experiencing. He watched his team in action before he focused on Patrick. He could feel the buildup of power radiating from Patrick’s body as Patrick levitated about two feet off the ground, summoned an auric barrier around himself and zipped among the demons. Every demon that came in contact with Patrick’s auric barrier exploded in smoldering embers just like the demons exploded when they collided with the auric barrier Patrick had summoned around Earth Realm.

  There was movement to Shi’mon’s right. He turned in the direction of the
movement and was shocked to see himself levitating. But how? He thought. How could he see himself? He was standing right there and… Shi’mon felt the same pulse of something radiate from his body and everything returned to… normal? He felt as if he had returned to what was his ‘normal’ reality, not the reality he was thrust into. As he pondered on what had just transpired, he noticed everything was happening as if in déjà vu. Did I just travel into the future? He thought as he watched Patrick summon the auric barrier around his body and zip among the demons. He was still steeped in his thoughts when he felt a surge of energy in his body like he had never felt before.

  Shi’mon’s eyes shone with the brightness of a supernova as he slowly levitated. The demons charged towards him by the thousands, attracted by a force so strong and irresistible that they could not help but gravitate towards him. They zipped at demonic speeds which was no faster than a baby crawling from Shi’mon’s perspective. This must be the upgrade! He thought. He was patient as the demons drew closer, blanketing the light of Solara with their bodies. But the glow in Shi’mon’s eyes was more than enough illumination for the sphere of darkness the bodies of the demons had created around him.

  Then, Shi’mon released an etheric blast that was highly polarized towards the light. The blast ripped through each demon within a 240-yard radius, neutralizing the polarity of their demonic, etheric construct and initiating a polarization of their forms towards the light. Unfortunately, when The Beast transformed them into demons, that transformation was irreversible. As such, unable to revert to their human forms, these demons were obliterated to nothingness by Shi’mon’s etheric blast. Shi’mon, eyes blazing, slowly floated back to the ground.