"Ashes of Eden" P 1

Barathiel ignored the rising bile from the back of his throat as the dropship made entry to the alien world below them. He felt that his brothers felt the same thing as they slowly descend to the hellish battlezone contested by both Heaven and Hell. He gripped his Blast Rifle tight and glanced at the viewing slit behind; greeted by the enormous sight of Python III.

Twilight obscured half of the planet but within the darkness came the twinkling lights of plasma, hellfire rounds, and high ordnance exploding and illuminating some parts of the continent. He could also see Mantras piloted by both Angels and Fallen Angels, engaging one another in a violent dogfight. It was both beautiful and horrifying.

"Brothers," The Dominion Tadiel spoke, his voice echoed throughout the cramped compartment of the dropship. All Powers turned their heads to him. "I will reiterate our mission objective. I need your full attention."

"Yes, sir!" They replied.

"The Watchtower confirmed that a fragment of the Ashes of Eden is hidden somewhere in this planet. Currently, Python III is under attack by Hell's forces. Battlegroup Simeon and its fleets were dispatched to combat their Legions." Tadiel paused as the dropship shook violently. He continued when it stilled. "This is covert op, brothers. We are to get in; stealth is a top priority, and eliminate any hostile forces that will try to stop us. We are not to interfere with the conflict taking place, whatever the outcome will be." He released a deep sigh before continuing. "Then we exfiltrate. Understood?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Who is like God?!" Tadiel yelled.

"Who is like God?!" They responded.

The dropship's descent slowed until it hovered an inch above the ground. The back ramp descended and the first thing that Barathiel sees was an urban zone covered in darkness. Sand was visibly seen in the ground, glowing in green. Barathiel concluded that the sand glowed not because of natural causes, but because it was highlighted in his display link for some reason.

He was the first in line. His destination was highlighted by the Dominion Tadiel. He followed the navigation arrow on the corner of his vision and moved, gold eyes darting from left to right. He tucked his black wings behind in order to prevent the Demons from spotting them. His brothers did the same.

Barathiel hoped that the black paint on their armor would add to their stealth, lest they wasted their time vandalizing an empyrean property. The road remained bare; no asphalt nor pavements but just a ground covered in luminescent grains of sand. There were no tall structures around them, but only habitational buildings with one floor and flat roof.

They moved from one street to another; the darkness of the night obscured them further but the approaching midnight sun would impede their progress for sure and the tension rose when they heard inhuman noises in the background.

"Prepare for combat, brothers," Tadiel spoke over the radio. "But if fate allows, do not engage."

They continued, morning slowly approaches. Python III was known for its weird planetary revolution. Three hours of dark time and three hours of daytime. Barathiel remained quiet as both morning and Demons approaches. They immediately hid inside the nearest building for cover.

The Demons of the Death Silence Legion approaches; the loud blaster speakers surgically attached to their shoulders blasted heavy death metal and electro-house synthwave music, heralding their arrival. Their green glowing eye sockets remained steady; their steel-plated cranium constantly turned, looking for any preys to kill. Their emaciated bodies were sewn with dirty pink clothing. In their hands were swords and handguns burning bright in green flames.

Their leader, a Baron in crimson battle armor, walked ahead of them. He carried a Warhammer, sparking in bright red. His face remained obscured by the face-plate of his headgear, contributing mystery behind its wearer.

"Scour the roads!" The Baron ordered, raising his Warhammer. He glanced to the left and nodded at the Hellraiser not far from him.

The flesh and vehicle hybrid nods at him. Barathiel felt rage upon seeing its blasphemous appearance; human form desecrated with steel forged in the fires of Tartarus. A muscular, flagellated human torso with limbs and head attached on two sets of wheel tanks. Its spine was welded with two short-range ballistic missiles and automatic rocket launchers. It laughed as it pointed at the direction of Barathiel and his team.

"Retreat, brothers!" Tadiel ordered as a missile launched from the back of the Hellraiser and sped towards them.

The seven-man team filed out of the building at a brisk pace. Barathiel was the last to leave; he was thrown to the ground when the missile leveled the house into dust and rubbles. Heavy metal and electro-house blasted even louder as the Demon Legionnaires charged at them.

A battle to the last man, Barathiel thought.

Getting to his feet, he aimed his Blast Rifle at the nearest Demon, took aim, and pulverized its skeletal head with high-temperature plasma. Its head melted; its body fell to its knees headless. He moved with speed, detached one of the speakers from its shoulder, and tossed it at another Demon. He raised his Blast Rifle and continually fired, getting his second kill.

"Remain steadfast in your faith, brothers!" Dominion Tadiel yelled as he raised a crossed with his left hand and his rifle with the other. "Execute Attack Protocol 67-3!"

The Powers moved closer to the Dominion and aligned in a semi-circle, facing the approaching horde. Barathiel and his brothers remained stoic as they terminated their foes with boiling plasma. Demons after Demons fell before them. Those who managed to get close were stabbed by the Angels' armblades.

"Forward, charge!"

After hearing the order, they kicked the ground and rushed the enemy, firing and punching their way through the horde. The Hellraiser was about to fire another rocket when the Baron raised his weapon to stop his subordinate.

"Retreat." He simply ordered.

"Yes, Master Hazakiel." The Hellraiser inclined its head in a bow, turned and left.

The remaining Legionnaires followed the order while the other ones continued fighting the Powers and the Dominion despite losing drastically. Soon, a Mantra floated in the air. It belonged to the Legion of the Pious Heart, an angelic legion.

"Hide, brothers!" Tadiel ordered. And they did.

Plasma fire came bursting in the opposite direction as heavily armored Angels met the fleeing Demons. They were locked into combat that evolved into a full-scale battle. Just before Tadiel and his team blend into the darkness of the approaching midnight, the Baron Hazakiel turned to the Dominion with one look, before raising his Warhammer and smashing an Angel's head.

The Powers and the Dominion were walking again, night has finally settled in. Corpses of Demons and Angels with rusted armors were scattered throughout; an indication that Fallen Angels have been here as well. Barathiel spotted dirty Mantras in the air, that fact would not be really surprising. Dominion Tadiel knelt beside one of the dead Fallen Angels, activated his armblade, and stabbed it. He retrieved it with a pull; the blade was covered in black thick mucus, sizzling and moving from the sanctified metal of his armor like tiny maggots sprinkled with salt or sulfur.

"They've been here longer, brothers," Tadiel spoke. "The corpses do not lie." He glanced behind and issued an order. "Lokuel, Matharias, move ahead of us and report back what you see. I have already marked your destinations, all you need to do is to avoid enemy patrols and our fellow brothers." He turned to Barathiel and the other Power beside him. "Kradiel, Barathiel, you'll be watching our flanks from both sides. Koluel and Farthas, watch our rear flank."

"Yes, Dominion-Commander." Lokuel replied as he and Matharias began sprinting forward. Their wings covered them, preventing them from being seen without an instrument.

They walked further for another hour. The scouts that Tadiel sent reported back frequently to him. The morning started to approach and Barathiel could not see any single structure around them. He realized that they were outside the urban zone already and the next one was a few kilometers away, putting them at a total disadvantage.

"Lokuel, Matharias, report!" Tadiel spoke. The radio crackled and bursts in static. None. He tried again. "Lokuel, Matharias!"

None.

"We have a problem." Tadiel finally said when the radio suddenly burst with activity.

"Enemy Locals, brother! We--he--they got----launchers!" The radio then died.

"Must be cults," Tadiel said when a group of men appeared to their right. They were human-like, covered in turbans, shemaghs and white ragged clothes. They raised their mundane weapons and opened fire at the Malakhim.

Barathiel raised his Blast Rifle and fired at the nearest mortal. His target's body fell to the ground with a loud thud. The impact of the plasma was powerful enough to expose his ribcage in the air before scorching the skin, cooking the meat and drying the blood of his body. His aim jumped to the second one and fired; he suffered the same fate as his comrade.

One of the men rushed towards him with a curved blade and foolishly struck at Barathiel's armor to no effect. Barathiel grabbed the mortal by his neck and clenched his fist. The man's eyeballs popped out from its sockets and the blood from its nose and mouth sprayed in the air, covering his face and chest plate.

The fight ended just as it had started.

"Covert Fireteam Hydranius, report!" Tadiel ordered.

"Kradiel, reporting in."

"Koluel, reporting."

"Barathiel, armed for battle."

"Farthas, locked and loaded."

"Good." Tadiel spoke. "Forward then, brothers. Let us make haste to reach our brothers."