Identity quest

Up in the cold and sterile realm of 'heaven.' Angels flew about, all carrying the orders of the Lord, YhVh. Those who had no such blessing were... sleeping until their time would come.

There was nothing much to describe about heaven's hall and playground. It was white, sterile and angular. Nothing organic grew, giving the supreme reward a rather bland and cold look.

There, what could be considered a palace filled with the marble statues of angels, the lord looking down on him, Merkebah laid in his soft bed as if his Master had neglectfully thrown him there.

He was alone... he had no friend to speak of, and the lord would rarely address him. Only when he was needed to purge the filth still striving in Naraku.

And trying to stop Flynn in his heretic crusade.

He was... already contaminated now, for, in his mind, doubt had wormed in his once pure heart.

'Is this what I really wanted?' Merkabah wondered as he stared at the golden face of God, a forearm to his forehead, the last three splayed about without a care. 'Was this... this destruction really worth it?'

Memories of his previous interaction with the foreign Saint returned, and Merkabah closed his eyes as he recalled them perfectly.

"Oh, you must be Merkabah." The diminutive heretic, a filth worse than whatever burning husk dared to address him. "My name is Mukhara Devi Dasi, Servant of the supreme and Absolute truth, The supreme personality of Godhead, Bhagavan Sri-Krishna." The bespectacled woman spoke with a kind smile and an infuriating glow. The whole body is hallowed by an almondine.

"A filthy servant of a debaucher." He hissed, the mark on her forehead, the mark of her master... of Krishna.

Mukhara dared to chuckle. " Oh... Our Master can do whatever he so wishes, and those He runs after are those who gave everything up from Him... But yes, He is indeed called that." Then her smile turned Nasty. "At least, Our Divine Debaucher has not perpetrated hatred for all."

Merkabah narrowed his eyes. And Mukhara gave a smile that held a wisdom older than what the Bible contained.

Sri-Krishna will reciprocate with how one sees and treats him, Merkabah... and yes, Krishna is Indeed The supreme personality of Godhead... I'm not talking about this particular Krishna, the one who's the head of the alliance but the Absolute Truth, the supreme original. The one who is bent in three places, holding a bamboo flute to his lips and wearing a peacock feather perched on his long and abundant curly lock of jet-black hair, crowned with fragment garlands of Jati and-"

"Cease this at once, Heretic!"

"Oh? Do you even know what that word means? Oh, false Chariot?" The unclean worshipper of a scandalous god asked with an imperious quirk of her brow. "Being a Heretic means doubting something you have heard, and looking for the truth. In my religious denomination, blind faith is severely frowned upon, and our practitioners are encouraged to deeply study the holy scriptures and ask questions about the lord, even their deep doubt."

"You cater to those who are weak of faith." Merkabah sneered. "The ones of unclean heart, the weak, the fools."

"We do, for it is by exposing doubt to a living Guru that faith is straightened, it is by Chanting Gods names, despite one's filthy habit and heart, that we become clean, it is by associations of the soft-hearted that the hard-hearted becomes the same, and it is by education that great fools becomes great scholars." The heretic, the pageant prince opened their arms, showing themselves. " and I am the best proof."

"Hmph, and has the Lord ever spoken to you?" Merkabah asked, remembering the last time he had met his master...

"The Lord speaks to me all the time, he speaks to all of us... we just chose to ignore him.."

"Yes... and you are still ignoring Him." Merkabah narrowed his eyes dangerously."

Mukhara shook her head. " No... less than before, I am aiming to remember My Lord and Master in his most beautiful form seventy-five percent of the time, at the very least. It is you who have been trapped in an illusion that cannot distinguish reality from fiction."

Merkhebah was about to open his mouth to verbally destroy the unclean one (valiantly ignoring Lucifer's simpering snicker) When Mukhara showed her palm, stopping him.

"The reality, dear Merkabah, is that there is no one more merciful than the Lord, and the Lord never differentiate between races, colours and status of Purity. As the supper soul, he is the Aloof witness of our deeds and desires. But the moment we turn to him, then his aloofness evaporates.

" It is not a fault of his Part, just another feature of his inconceivable glories... and as for those who do not wish to give up their false Ego as controllers, exploiters and enjoyers of material nature, controlled by lust and pride." She narrowed her eyes. "To them, the Lord showed them His back, and let his Illusory Potency, Maya, care for them." her eyes met with Merkabah. And the angel shuddered.

Mukhara's smile widened as she inclined her head." Understood, I also do not want to hear about the fate of the selfish." She conceded. " many scriptures describe hell, and I do believe that this is not something you'd want to hear again."

"No... All Hell's are made for punishment."

"Indeed, it's one of the universal truths of this material world... that, and unfair taxes."

This got a chuckle out of Merkabah.

"But... I would prefer to talk about the result and The symptoms of those who truly worship the Lord with all their heart and soul." she gave another beatific smile. " The result of our spiritual practice is the systematic purification of whatever fault and sin have infested their heart." She narrowed her golden eyes.

Mukhara tilted her head, and Merkabah could not speak...

"But in you... I can hear so much pride and anger... and no compassion."

"I... I am compassionate." Merkabah didn't whine, an angel, the throne of God did not whine...

He didn't! It would be so below him if he did.

"Only to those whom your 'lord' deems worthy." Mukhara pointedly prodded. "My Master makes no such distinction, His love is causeless, and it matters not if it's a Dog, a hog, a Demi-god, a saint, or a murderer. The moment they call His name, even as a joke or with hatred, my Lord sees them as his.

"His Love is Causeless, and one only needs to call out one of his many Holy Names for Him to Answer."

"Then your God makes no distinction..." The regal angel let a small sneer decorate his androgynous features.

But the so-called Saint merely gave a gentle smile, devotion and love glowing from her face like sacred rivers. "Yes... it is my Lord's greatest Glory. He gave us all of his names, including the most intimate and sweet." She closed her eyes and straightened her neck up as if she was about to drink from the sky the sweetest of ambrosia. "Kṛṣṇa."

Merkabah shuddered at the memory... it was not a bad shudder, but...

Was it bad that this was when his faith in his divine master wavered in favour of the one Mukhara, her son, and the Hellcat worshipped?

" out of all of us souls, Kṛṣṇa is more anxious for our return to his side, and thus, five hundred years ago, in the outside world, the Lord descended again."

"Why would God descend in this filthy world?!"

"I told you, Master Merkabah, God loves all of his tiny parts and parcels, even the forgetful, fallen and filthy. And due to this love, God is willing to descend in this world of darkness again and again to liberate us, and bestow upon the most fallen the easy means to get back home, back to Godhead." She spoke with...

with such divine love and faith that it made Merkabah, Metatron and Black Maria look like a bunch of Atheists.

"Tell me, Merkabah... Do you know the name of God? How do you call him?" Mukhara asked, her effulgence strong yet soothing.

" We usually don't call him. It's disrespectful for his name to be spoken by an unclean tongue."

"Yehovah."

Merkabah recoiled.

"But... I also hear his name as Ỷ̠̯͕̞͢ẖ͕̰̙̯̭̻ͯͬ͜V̤̦̭̖̇̓̀̚͡ͅḩ̝̯͈͕̝͎̝ͪ̀..." the moment the four sacred letters dared to touch Mukhara's tongue, Merkabah shuddered.

"Please, don't speak His name aloud."

Instead of being chastised, Mukhara smirked. "Ah, Gotcha!"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You said your Master's merciful, and yet, he still picks and chooses whom he wants to associate with. And Usually, it's those who are pliable and easily controlled. My Lord also desires the meek and humble, but he also doesn't mind individuality and free will. Not only that, but the way you react with conditioned fear tells me that he made sure his name is filled with fear, and not sweetness."

"The Devil hides in free will." Merkabah shot back. Unable to argue that the Name of his master was anything but aw worthy and only to be used to cow the infidels... and pious.

"No, The Devil is only here to tempt, and there's nothing wrong with a little bit of test," Mukhara spoke sagely. " If the Lord desires the best, then all souls have to be put in the trial of purity and strength. This is Satan and Lucifer's Job. They separate the bad from the good, then with the sinful reactions, teaches those souls the right path... I went through them, you went through them."

"No, I didn't." Merkabah vehemently denied.

"And you would be right!" Mukhara nodded. "But... you still went to hell, you may not remember it, fallen soul, but no one in this material world has been spared from its trials. And we are tempted every single second, of every single minute that makes the day..." She tilted her head. "Also, the only way to escape from this terrible faith is to call out to God... but how do you expect to call to Him if you can't even pronounce His ever pure name. How do you expect to be purified from all sin if the means to do so is blocked by superstitious beliefs!" As she spoke, Mukhara's indignation at the whole ordeal ignited.

" This is not Mercy, it's not causeless and it's... ugh, I have no idea how your scriptures describe him, but I would never bow to a man whose name I can't even pronounce." she huffed, and Merkabah felt the need to take a step back from the... Hare Krishna.

"You're god's name, to my hypersensitive ears, sounds like a demoniac record scratch. Now how are you supposed to glorify him if you can't even understand his name? Where I'm from, the jews call Him Yahveh, Yehovah, Elohim. The Muslims call him Allah, Al-Rahman...

"But His favourite name, the highest name... the name that has power over everyone, including him, is Kṛṣṇa." The saint spoke... unaware of how she had captured Merkabah. "Ishvara Parama Kṛṣṇa, Sat-chit-Ananda virghaha, anadir adir Govinda, Sarva Karana Karanam." She quoted as her whole body quivered and tears filled her eyes.

"Krishna is the supreme controller, His transcendental body is made of eternity, consciousness, knowledge and bliss. He, Govinda is without beginning or end, and He is the cause of all causes."

"His Name, Krishna... one of our previous acharya, long gone to the spiritual world once said that, once someone tasted the sweetness of Krishna's names on his tongue, one desires a ten thousand tongue to vibrate it, and when the sweet name enters one's ears, one desired ten thousand ears..." she shook her head as she held her heart. "But who am I, conditioned souls so fallen and unworthy to even try to taste the infinite Glories of Sri-Krishna's Holy names..." she raised her hands and...

"Fie on me and my paltry skills."

Merkabah stared... he'd never seen anyone serving under him show so many genuine symptoms of ecstasies, from the tears, speaking in tongues and divine madness...

and this was for... Krishna.

Let out a huff as she gathered back her wits.

"Say, Merkabah, when you chant the names of your Lord." The short amputee asked. " Do you feel unintended bliss? Do you feel that he hears you? Can you do it all day and night for the rest of your life?"

"One should not speak the names of God in Vain." Merkabah echoed the holy edicts... but now, doubt had wormed it way in his pure heart.

"I see... how unfortunate of you," Mukhara spoke with genuine regret, once again planting the seed of doubt in his heart. "Now, as much as I would love to stay to talk about the finer points, my resurrected son is waiting for me... and an imposter too. Hare Krishna, Haribol."

And she left... she left Merkabah to stew in all that she had told him. In her reactions and ecstasy...

Krishna was God... and Not YHVH.

How did Merkabah come to this startling conclusion?

It was silly really, but the Chariot of the Lord took Mukhara's advice and began to test the names of God.

He had expected the names of YHVH to... be a forbidden pleasure, but it took everything for Merkabah to let it pass his lips more then once, feeling himself a filthy man for daring to do so.

There was fear, loathing... and not sweetness, no desire to keep going more than necessary.

Then... he dared to chant Krishna's names.

Krishna, Krishna, Krishna...

It felt sinful, a guilty pleasure, something that would send him to hell...

And he loved it!

Merkabah could feel the sweetness of this name, he could feel how right it felt on his tongue, how it touched something deep in his heart, how it made his many eyes well with tears and how bliss filled his being to the brim.

And then... it stopped.

It was as if Krishna was pulling him closer with the promises of even more pleasure if Merkabah was willing to go the extra mile, like those shady men with their shady deals in the back of the slums.

But... Merkabah could not stop, he felt as if he had found the well of nectar, the missing bliss in his life, the light of the Lord.

When he'd chanted the names of YHVH, a name he could not even pronounce without sounding like... something even Lucifer would violently reject (more so than God.)

Lucifer's taste of music may be despicable, but at least there's some semblance of a dying melody there.

But when he chanted the names of Krishna, a Hindu god... who was apparently more than a mere pantheistic god.

Oh...

Oh!

It was like a symphony, as if every syllable was blessed, every utterance a prayer...

'wait... didn't Mukhara chant something more with it?' Merkabah wondered as he sat up, feeling an unnatural surge of questing passion in his heart. A stain for sure, but he didn't give a damn at the moment...

a darn...

oh, to heck with it.

With renewed enthusiasm ( When was the last time he'd felt more than his usual prideful indifference and disgust? Merkabah felt like a child again... how glorious!) The Chariot of God managed to roll off the bed and on his feet. He had to find this woman again... and her son, Krishna-Kripa.

And thankfully, he had reasons to enter the purgatory.

As he hurried down to the portal, he tried to act as normal, to be a floating figure filled with...

Whatever Angels were supposed to be filled with... but not love of God, for this... master was not He.

Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder... he turned around to peer down at Metatron.

"Yes, Metatron... Do you need something from me?" He asked.

"Your face is glowing, and you appear lighter." The instrument of g... he spoke, his robotic and emotionless voice grating on Merkabah's nerve.

The great angel remained poised, to show any type of emotions would be detrimental. "Indeed. My prayers were long and pious today. I feel the Lord at my side, Metatron... how about you?"

"Yes... I feel Ý̶̬͛̌̂h̶̺̄̉͑͌̚V̵͉̯̊͛̄̈́͜h̸̖͖͆ in my heart." The mechanical angel said as he put the emphasis on the corrupted name.

Merkabah narrowed his eyes. "What are you implying?"

Around the six winged chariot of Krishna, Angel narrowed his eyes as he noticed more high-ranking angels surrounding him.

"My lord hath heard the pagan's name on your tongue." Merkabah felt his many hearts freeze. "Thou has stained thy very soul with filth...

"Thou must be purged from heaven."

When the pain subsided and Merkabah returned to consciousness, he was plummeting to the ground from the heavens' now barred from ever entering.

As the ground came closer, as with the promise that he would fall even lower, Merkabah could not help but smile despite the pain.

'Thank you, Krishna.'

~0~

"Thank you, Master." Issachar was forced to speak out, his body moving by himself.

He wanted to puke... in front of him, Nyarlatothep sat on a throne... Lilith's sinful laps.

Apparently, the black Samurai was so hedonistic that she had a naked statue of her snake-like body as her seat of power.

No, Issachar was not impressed... at all.

Actually, it was rather gross, her snake-like features harsh on his eyes despite being a snake himself.

Nyarlathotep's vessel, Yuki, now looked... better.

Apparently, Nyarly had no need for Flynn... nor the other guy, what's-his-skull face. The only reason he had kept them was for his own amusement.

It sickened Issachar... he had read about those types of hedonistic rot, psychopaths who only desired the pain of others while looking as fabulous as possible. Preening with the attention every vile act would garner.

Nyarly didn't want to give salvation, he didn't want to free the oppressed and downtrodden with anarchical means... he didn't care about others. For him, his gain was more important.

He just wanted to cause Chaos... because he could, because this was what he was meant to do, and he did it with great relish.

And He was not done yet.

As Nyarly kept monologuing to Maitreya about his plans, Issachar let his eyes slide toward the gruesome display.

There's a white cross, the same one the fake Flynn had been hung on. At the bottom, Dagda's lifeless bones and leather armour are scattered around.

The sight of the jubilant god as he died firmly etched in Issachar's mind... but everything that is what is hung there like a gruesome piece of art.

Once Dagda had... merged in everything. His body remained at the base of the cross, where Flynn was hanged. Now without the God to sustain his life, Issachar's Brother in all but name had agonized for an hour as Nyarlatothep went on and on about how the despair people felt, and their desire to die would soon reawaken Nyx, who would free them all.

It was honestly disgusting, and after the debacle he'd been through, Issachar knew how to call out a cult leader.

Lilith had been a wonderful teacher for that.

But Flynn's tortuous agony was not enough for Nyarly and... taking the spear that had made Shesha bleed, stabbed the Samurai of hope through his side, making the blood flow like water out of a pouch.

Flynn had tried to give a rousing speech as he died in front of a slate... a smartphone's camera. and he did... telling everyone to chant and pray to the real Krishna, the Supreme Personality of Godhead. To support Mukhara and her team and...

Not to lose hope, for the real Saviours.

Those were his last words before all blood was drained...

And Issachar had been incapable of saving him, forced to watch as his best friend, his brother bled to death under his very eyes. Reminding Issachar of something the black Samurai had told him.

Not all heroes see the end of their quest.

"So, Shesha." Nyarlathotep addressed the human-shaped snake. "What do you think of my plan?"

'You prostitute born filth, you can roast your shitty plan and eat it as is!' Issachar cursed internally as he felt his lips move and his tongue vibrate words he didn't care to hear. 'You may have me under your control, but know that the moment you set me free, I will destroy whatever you have for a plan. I won't fight Radha and Mukhara, I will let the green-haired samurai slay me, I will lay at the feet of the crusader and... that's what you're planning, aren't you, you piece. of wall crap.' If Issachar would have full control he would be fully sneering at the monster. ' Paedophilia monster, piece of rotten tar fallen from a slaver ship. They will destroy you like the darkness of a small room when the candles are lit.' and he kept going and going.

He could not openly rebel against the thing, he was powerless... but he would not stop fighting even if the situation was hopeless.

Beside him, He could see Odin. The poor man looked resigned to his fate.

Eventually, Nyarlatothep grew bored and sent everyone away, including Maitreya, for he still had to deal with whatever remained of the freed ring of Gaea.

Without Mii and Kai, the whole thing was falling apart.

'Good!' The now Snake-like youth thought. The taint of the black Samurai had to be expunged from this world.

Shesha and Odin walked side by side. Issachar was glad to be back in human form and not as a big, fat snake. He missed having his legs, lone head and a single pair of eyes.

Eyes that were sharp enough to notice the temperature change in the environment... Flynn's body slowly cooled off as life left him and how downtrodden the old Viking God felt.

Usually, Issachar would keep his dealings with Odin to the bare minimum, usually by staying in his cavernous room in snake form, or just by being a coward.

Odin couldn't bear cowards... at all.

But now... Issachar felt the need to reach out to the bicolor deity. A man who looked dead inside despite the lightning that would sometimes dance on his skin and spear.

"Hey..." Issachar began... it was lame, but hey was the most inoffensive thing he could find at the moment.

Odin didn't even react.

Now, this would usually be the part where Issachar would back up and find somebody else to bug but...

For crying out loud, he had just seen his sworn brother bleeding to death, hung on a cross because of a dark entity, an abomination hiding in the skin of a young man who was forced to play the role of the 'real' god, toughs it would be funny and edgy to send it to everyone in Tokyo. Desiring to hear their tears of anguish.

Just because he could.

He...

Issachar had no time to deal with this... not right now.

Something told him that it had to wait... to wait for a time when his weakness would not be exploited.

He was already planning to get... oh, that's the term, right, shitfaced drunk in the memory of his brother after gathering his corpse and burying his body by lake Mikado, their favourite fishing spot.

Oh... Flynn may be a terrible knot-tier, but he loved to be out in the sun, his body turning golden by its rays.

They had both turned eighteen during the winter season, both were mere days apart and their mothers had made a huge affair of the dates. Their father broke out different types of wine for them to sample.

They were Casularies, they had a bit more freedom then the Nobles living in Mikado. Save for the holy samurai.

That night, they had their confession.

They were more than friends... More than lovers, more than brothers by blood relationship... more than brothers in arms, more than husband and wife.

They were Bros... Something the ancient text had glorified as being an even greater love than anything on the planet.

They were bros, and together, they would become samurai... the Super Samurai Bros.

The subsequent hangover had made Issachar swear that he would never touch a drop of liquor in his life ever again, while Flynn, the lucky bastard (He truly was one. No one knew the identity of his mother, only that she had given him to his father in a dream.) was still looking fresh and free of pain, having a higher tolerance then most.

Now though...

Flynn had ascended to the rank of the holy samurai, while Issachar had plummeted to lower than a Casulary. He had fallen prey to the books of Propaganda that the black Samurai bore. And while the nightly cabals had been instructive, it just served to poison Issachar's mind more and more.

Flynn had killed him... the sight of his Bro holding his dying body near as sobs ripped through his throat, his associates, another pair of young Samurai, looking at the scene with different levels of grief.

He had told him... begged him to be the best of Samurai... for the both of them.

And he did...

" I..." He felt his throat closing as tears welled in his eyes. The reality of what had just happened bowling him over.

Flynn... was dead... He had watched his brother get tortured and finally killed... messily. The whole thing to be broadcast to the hunter's alliance...

( Not that it would happen, for He had stolen the... memory cards and, before he had been called to this... demon's side, Issachar had cast the divine being masquerading as an animal to the poison-filled river bed, hoping that, somehow or other, her companion would find her remains.)

Issachar held no memory as to how he'd managed to reach Odin's room. And he had no idea how long he'd cried in the ancient Deities' arms. The horror of the days finally catching up to him and the reality that... that...

There was no hope anymore.

"Please... pray to God... To the real Krishna, whose bodily hue is blackish blue... he's your only hope. Krishna... the real one... Hari... Hari... Hari…"

~0~

"And that's why we call him Hari," Mukhara spoke as they emerged from the demon field alleys and streets and onto the door of the Tsukiji-Hongwanji. The demons, feeling Krishna-Kripa's killing intent, wisely left them all alone.

And a good thing too, for they were all tired of it. For Mukhara, it had been hell from the beginning to the end... save from when she found her son again, mostly unharmed.

And then... she realized that he would not let her extract him, for another person needed to be freed from a demon. A powerful one.

And then there was the slander of her Lord, Krishna. And of many of his associates and Avatars.

If it wasn't for Yuki, a God Brother Lost in a hermitage... no, a Godbrother lost due to a mistake she had made a thousand years ago, Mukhara would have left this God Damned place to rot, no, better. She would have pulled a favour from Yamuna and Uttara and have the place nuked to (literally) hell.

And maybe, it had been her first plan. The moment she had heard the blasphemy spilling out of the screens and the heart desire of those stuck there.

Some may call her cruel, but she knew she would have no patience to deal with atheists... and she didn't want to risk a mob destroying deities of Krishna.

But, once again, the Lord had gently scolded her, reminding Mukhara that she was not the one whose job was to decide who could receive his causeless mercy or not. For it was always Krishna's Final verdict.

And since this was a special age of Kali. Killing that many people was severely frowned upon since Gauranga Mahaprabhu wanted everyone to have a chance to dance at his party. And Nitiananda would never let her live it down.

Thankfully, this place was not as hopeless as some hermitages she had to face. Was nuking everything to (literal) hell and back was the only alternative.

Not only that but... people began to react positively to Krishna after she had appeared on TV to clear a few details up. This had been a huge relief, for it meant those souls who, out of their great fortune.

So many Tokyoites had chanted the holy names, a bit less had contacted her about having more information and... and quite a few had expressed the desire to join the movement after Mukhara would bust them out of here. And this included Ken, Gaston (not that surprising, since he was in near-constant contact and adored her son in the most brotherly way possible. From what she had heard.)

Nozomi, Lady Danu (quite surprisingly), and Asahi were also showing interest ranging from cautious to eager without showing.

This... plus her returned son... a son who, by some amazing miracle... no, it wasn't a miracle. Ananda-rupini had been practising bhakti in her previous life and was now reaping the juicy and glorious fruit in this lifetime.

Ananda-Rupini, or whomever she was previously, had obviously practised Bhakti-Yoga even further back, for there was no way she could have reached the stage of Bhava, going to Prema so quickly.

And yet, Krishna was also known to be independent of his own sacred rules.

Meaning... What Happened to Krishna-Kripa was by Hari's will alone. And Mukhara's resolve to get her kid, Krishna's eternal lover out of this hell hole and back to the holy Dhama grew even stronger by every second she remained in this hell hole.

Kripa had no business being there... same as all the new Bhaktas.

Still, she may have taken the scenic route to the Tsukiji, having gotten caught in a fascinating discussion about Krishna's many, Many, many names, one of which being Hari, or he who takes away one's suffering, ones' material wealth, one's mind and senses and finally their heart...

Thief of Heart. (Chitta-Hari.)

In other words.

"I can't believe I will be worshipping a burglar." Gaston chuckled with a grin. "I cannot wait to hear more of what our Lord gets himself into, for if one of his names means thief."

"Oh, Gasby, my dude!" Kripa happily slapped the taller boy's back, making him lurch forward. "We have libraries filled with sacred books about that Glorious subject. We love talking about Krishna and Krishna's devotees. We can go for hours on end, singing his unlimited glories in groups"

"You don't say!" Gaston joyfully said, having gained a bounce in his strides.

Mukhara smiled at the interaction, happy that her son had a better friend.

She had tried to be an objective observer and not to meddle in her son's relationship. But Hoshi...

He had too many selfish desires and would have brought her son away from the proverbial light and back into the underworld.

Did she sound harsh and controlling? Yes.

Had she seen the result of bad association?

Unfortunately, she did... she herself had been a result of that.

If Kripa had desired to pursue his relationship with Hoshi, Mukhara would've had some things to say to her son... despite the fact that she knew the result of the actions were not in her hands; they were in the lord.

And... the Lord and wonderful son also thought Kripa deserved better. And indeed, Gaston was better. Definitely better.

Now... if Only Asahi could mellow out even more. For if she thought her Baby boy to be scary...

Well, thankfully, she would never have to meet Yuthika.

"Hey. Ma?" Kripa called out. "Ah... why are you looking so happy?"

"Oh, I'm just happy you made a friend." The 'Other than Hallelujah' was heavily implied, and the saintly hermit could not help but cringe.

"Mama, it's alright, he was not a good friend either." Her glorious son waved away her worry. "Listen, I know you're worried about being a good mom but... I have no issue with what you're doing."

Mukhara let out a breath she'd never remembered holding.

"You know, Princess." Toad began. "Take it from another parent; If you keep second-guessing yourself, it means you're doing a good Job."

Mukhara thought about it for a bit and had to agree. If she was too self-assured that she knew what was best for her son, then she would be a terrible mother.

Of course, she had to be sure of what she did and not be a carpet about it. But at the same time, humility was the key…

But how was she to deal with a teenager? A child soldier who was used to being treated as a warrior, and who saw death up close, had died himself and…

'He Krishna, Karuna Sindho. Dina-bandho Jagat-Pate… please guide me.'

"... Mom?" Kripa addressed his only surviving parent. " Were close to the stupid temple, right?"

"Yes, we are." The ancient hermit nodded. " And you are wondering why I let you all have a break while Nyarly is growing stronger, right?"

" No offence, Ma'am. But I also want to know." Ken grumbled a bit.

"All of us are too emotional about what happened to Flynn and Yuki. And while anger is useful, I would rather for it to be cold and calculative than all-consuming."

"So, you're letting us have a chance to cool it down to a simmer then." Ken summarized.

"Indeed... and to focus the flame into a laser beam." Mukhara nodded as she crossed her arms. She may appear calm, but her golden eyes held the flames of indignation. "Cold flames that would strike deliberately and with great effect." She struck the palm of her hand, the sound of the material sharp to the point.

Then her lips turned into a mischievous yet kind smile. " And I may have heard of a feathered friend willing to aid us," Mukhara spoke meaningfully as she peered at the top of the building they were hiding behind. "It seems our conversation has borne its fruits, and yes, My Lord does accept you, Oh Merkabah."

At those words, everyone got to their weapons... save Krishna-Kripa.

The green-haired youth knew they were safe, his mother's ears could pick up the ten desires in a person's heart. And if She was calm despite everything... and despite the angel looking over them.

Then he was cool.

A body flew down from a roof, his skin was... he used to be alabaster white.

Merkabah didn't look all that great. He was missing numerous feathers, his face and breasts were cracked as if he had withstood great impacts. Some parts of his body were singed while his tail was struggling to lift its head and one of his four arms, the one that held the head-light was clearly broken.

And yet... despite his state, Merkabah did something no angel, especially high ranking ones like him would dare to do.

Merkabah touched the ground, falling in front of Krishna-Kripa, Radha-Shyamasundara and Mukhara... giving them all a good look at his mangled back. He grabbed at their feet as his body remained motionless.

Now, Kripa and all the cadets were run through what an angel could do to you... and while demons would shamelessly eat you, and torture you, at least they had some courtesy. And all they would do was easily identifiable.

Angels, on the other hand... appeared to be burns, but they acted like frostbites, didn't poison but would cause the body to go into a mild anaphylactic shock. And even the magic attacks that could be somewhat identifiable were... wrong.

And Merkabah clearly had been at the other ends of it.

Mai, (who had been hiding behind Zhong Khui) wasted no time as she descended to check up on the latest fallen angel. Choking back sobs as she gently touched his shorn limb and bleeding cracks.

Mukhara landed (kneeled?) in front of the filthy throne of God, putting her hand on his matted hair.

~0~

'Damn, I'd never thought I'd see the day when an Angel, no, not an angel, Merkabah would fall at the ground to those he perceives as unclean.' Krishna-Kripa thought as he watched the once-proud Angel splayed on the filthy ground of the back alley. He could not help but wince in sympathy as Mai pulled out a lance of light from in between his armpit, her glowing hands closing numerous wounds and healing burns, wounds and cuts.

Mukhara kneeled beside the angel, her hand on his head. " Merkabah, can you speak?" She asked gently. " What has happened since the last time we've talked?"

Now that he looked less as if he had been dragged to and from the lowest pits of hell.

The massive being scraped himself off the ground with some effort, he looked tired, repentant yet a sort of determination glowed in his solid blue eyes.

"Oh Sacred one." Kripa felt his hair standing on end. " You have opened my eyes to the Absolute Truth. And to what Divine Ecstasy is."

Mukhara smirked. " I see, I never expected my heavy chastisement to have touched your heart, Oh divine one."

Merkabah hunched his shoulders over as if the weight of his numerous crimes were weighing down on him. " I... am no such being, mother. The Prayer you gave me... God made me realize that the one I was following was... not worthy of my love and Faith." the alabaster was admitted, and Kripa could just hear the pain in his voice at the admission.

He winced in Sympathy, the greenette had no idea how he would survive IF his faith in Krishna would get shaken, let alone shattered.

He would rather die...

"I... My master..." As predicted, tears welled up in Merkabah's eyes, utterly destroying the talk about how he was an emotionless doll dancing to the shithead's bloody tune. "The one I... I used to serve... he's not..." A sob shook the healing angel. " He's... He has never given me such bliss... the bliss I received from the prayer you have given to this fallen wretch." He bowed down, letting the gem of his forehead touch the ground in great veneration.

Shivers and goosebumps covered Kripa's entire body, every single hair standing to attention as the powerful angel, YhVh's right-hand man, gave up his old master and took shelter of an outsider.

The greenette's sight blurred, and he was transported back to his previous birth.

He stood in front of his spiritual master, who was busy cooking them all Kitchari with forest fares like fiddleheads and bamboo shoots.

He was glowing and happy.

"You see, Aegis, the greatest way we can Serve Krishna is by Serving his devotees. Lord Shiva said so to his wife, Parvati; the Topmost service is to serve Lord Vishnu, and even higher is to Serve his Tadya, or Paraphernalia."

"So... a Devotee is one of Krishna's tools." The Robotized young woman spoke without much inflection.

"Yes! I am Krishna's tool of Mercy. But He doesn't see me as something without feeling or consciousness." He explained. "You see, Krishna's shoes, Krishna's Bed... Everything that seems to be made of dull matter in the Goloka-Vrindavan is not only Conscious but Sri-Balarama himself."

Aegis stared. "I'm sorry, but I do not understand what you have just told me."

Raganuga swami Chuckled, his voice husky yet warm. " Basically, Aegis, everything is Conscious in the spiritual world. Nothing is just a rock and just water."

"Ah, I see."

"And the Potency of existence is Balaram."

"So… the energy as a person. it's another aspect of God but… his own person also."

"Yes!" Raganuga Swami snapped his finger in bliss, his shining eyes dancing with joy.

" I remember something my own Guru-Srila Prabhupada once told us on a morning walk." He continued as he added salt to the meal. " 'If you love me, love my dog.' A rich man will not notice you or even allow you close if you try to approach him directly. But you go through his dog..."

"Then you will build a relationship around the dog. Since he will be your subject of common affection."

Raganuga Swami blessed Aegis with one of his sun-like smiles...

And Kripa returned to the present, just in time to hear the most blessed phrase in the world.

"Oh blessed one, Envoy of God... please." Merkabah bowed his head to his Mother's nonexistent feet, his round head gem hitting the ground with a tiny, bell-like sound. "Please accept me as your student, your words are my laws."

Another wave of goosebumps flowed over his skin as tears flowed from his eyes.

He could feel his Krishna there, and indeed, there was the thief, looking at his new plaything with love.

Krishna raised his head and winked at Kripa... before disappearing from his sight.

It took everything for Krishna-Kripa not to fall in a dead faint, for he knew the big battle was upon them.

His spiritual emotions would have to wait, right now, he had a Brother to rescue, and an evil spirit to destroy...

No, wait... chase away to the lowest pits of hell with his tail firmly tucked between its shattered legs.

Yes... much better.

~0~

In Lucifer's palace. A place covered in grunge and filth interspersed with Gold, prostitutes, plenty of intoxication and deceit, in the biggest room, on a golden throne sat the said fallen angel.

He held an ornate chalice filled with wine. No, it was not the blood of a virgin girl... or boy since those were overrated and tasted the same as every old blood... save those of pregnant women and newborns.

Bah... he would get some soon when those humans would be permitted to breed at a faster rate than their demise.

He swirled the ancient wine, taking in the Aroma and deeming it pleasing enough for his delicate palate, the fallen angel took a delicate sip of the intoxicating beverage... he could not wait to feel his head spin and his inhibition sublimate.

What was the use of sense control when all the senses wanted was to be happy... better not make them wait, otherwise, desperation would once again rear its ugly head.

Suddenly, the sound of talons gently hitting the concrete floor was heard and Lucifer smiled ghoulishly, there was his trump card to defeat Krishna, the Angels and those Vaishnavas.

They had already taken his dear Adramelech and Abe, his right-hand man...and numerous others. Heavens above, some in his ranks had even started singing their 'blessed' Prayers.

Those who managed to escape his wrath were few... but nevertheless, humans were polarized about the new side of the war, and the tempter knew he would be able to sway quite a few to his side.

As always.

'Hare Krishna... Hare Krishna...'

After he deemed that he's made his visitor wait long enough, Lucifer sent a gesture to tell his demoniac guards to open the door, admitting a fine lady, now a widow.

She had talons on her feet, sharp enough to slash through body armour, reinforced doors and whatever happened to piss her off. Her thighs were wonderfully thick, but being part peacock, it was to be expected. The top of her body was more human-like, save that it was covered by a layer of short, black fur.

She wore a Mesopotamien dress that left nothing to the imagination, her shoulders covered by a cloak made of peacock feathers that she held through spindly fingers.

She had the head of a she-donkey, her lips unadorned by lipstick and her eyes sad... yet hiding the madness of a vengeful spirit.

On her head was a crown tiara...

"Ah, Anamelech... how are you feeling my dear?" Lucifer purred. "May I offer you some refreshment? I have this fresh bottle of orphan blood for you... well, I think those used to be orphans."

"Do not tempt me, Demon." She hissed, her voice hoarse from disuse. " My husband may be... gone, but I shall not fall for your seduction, false one!"

'Ooh... sharp one, isn't she?' Lucifer smirked in his glass, what a shame to have lost her husband. He had good taste in practically everything.

" But why would I touch a chaste widow such as you?" he asked, and Anamelech looked at the king of the underworld with a less than pleasing mien, shaking one of her ears as if Beelzebub was flying around it.

"Just tell me why you convoked me and let me mourn in peace," she grunted, the polar opposite to her husband.

"Fine, fine... I will." Lucifer spoke as he smacked his arms bulge, he hated what his other part was signing. He would rather hear his moan of despair than this... Krishna, Krishna song.

Sure, the guy was a pagan God from an uncultured land where old people are sent to die in the forest, underage girls are married to terrible men twice their age and where animals and sometimes humans are killed in sacrifice for the pleasure of the vulva of a dead goddess. But still, the little shit had no respect for Lucifer, at all!

So why should Lucifer give him respect? Huh?

He returned his attention to Anamelech once he was sure the fetal samurai embraced silence as he embraced the side of the demons. Roguishly smiling at the she-ass.

"So, I had a proposition for you..."