Chapter 39

A Risky Gamble

Temple of the Holy Light

The headquarters of the archangels was truly something to behold, a magnificent, glistening white church. Tall marble pillars held it in place, and sculpted statues decorated the massive mosaic that stood above the entrance archway. Inside the temple, various lesser angels of different ranks bustled about the different levels and rooms, guardian angels, healers, clerics, paladins. Each going about their day, tending to their various duties.

Situated on the highest level of the temple, located in a circular room that took up the entire floor, the council chamber of the Seven Archangels stood. Designed with a minimalist approach, the only furniture included in the room was a wide round table. Odd, considering there were only four chairs situated far apart around its perimeter. At the back of the room, a tall stained-glass window allowing natural light to flood into the room, had images of the archangel's many heroic exploits immortalized through the art. Michael and Raphael defending humanity from demons and monsters, Gabriel's message to Joseph and Mary, and so on.

At the moment, all four of the archangels were gathered in the room, each with different emotions and feelings at the recent announcement of Ra's next choice. Michael, who sat at the head of the table, held Gabriel's tablet in hand with a thoughtful expression on his face. Gabriel herself, paced up and down the room, worriedly chewing her thumb. And Raphael, godly representative of Round 5, sat in his chair with a look of silent apprehension, his mind too deep in thought.

"We all knew this was coming…" Gabriel murmured, "but so soon already?"

"Fret not sister," Raphael replied, "I'll be fine."

"I know you will, brother, I have every bit of faith in your skills. It's just… URGH!" Gabriel scratched her head in frustration, ruining the tidiness of her braided hairstyle, "What should happen if humanity sees you fighting against them? Are we sure we can't withdraw you from Ragnarok or something?"

"Not unless you wish to invite Ra here in person to inform him." Michael responded, eliciting another groan from the Angelic Herald.

"I could always," Raphael began,

"No, Raphael." Michael said firmly, "We've talked about this, that is a no go."

"But why?" Raphael retorted, "We are humanity's protectors! What's stopping me from defecting over to their side like the Buddha did?"

"Because we are NOT as brash and reckless as he was!" Michael said, spreading his wings, "That fool's childish rebellion may have helped mankind in the short run, but afterwards he lost all merit with the Valhalla council. We have painstakingly built up our reputation in Heaven's politics over countless millennia, in the hopes of negotiating better terms for humanity. To just throw that all away for a short period of success… do you understand how bad of a trade-off that will be, Raphael?"

The Holy Nurse sank in his chair dejected, "I understand, Michael, it's just… hypocritical. For any one of us to fight against humanity for the Heavens… Göll and Joan are going to be so disappointed with me."

"They are not fools, In time they will come to understand your burden, Raphael." Michael said, his tone assuring, "That the gods were the ones to force our hand. Consider my siblings. Heracles, a former human too, fought for the gods. But it was his human killer that was jeered by the crowd in the end. What is it that I have always told you, Raphael?"

Raphael looked up at his brother's stern imploring gaze, before reciting in a slightly robotic tone the same phrase he had been told and uttered countless times before. "The end will always justify the means."

"Excellent," Michael nodded with a satisfied smile.

"I am still unsure about this, brother." Gabriel said, finally taking a seat. "What if... I don't know, Prometheus sends out some heinous criminal to fight for humanity against Raphael? One with absolutely zero qualms with hurting him?"

Michael chuckled, "You worry too much, sister, Prometheus of all people should understand our complicated situation and the difficult decisions we must make. And even if he somehow doesn't… Well, they do not call Raphael the second greatest archangel after me when it comes to fighting."

"I am forever grateful for your praise, brother." Raphael said with a curt bow.

"Well then," Michael said brightly, clapping his hands together. "Now that we have got all that sorted out, I suppose this meeting is adjourned… Unless of course. You wish to say something, Uriel?"

The three archangels turned their heads to the opposite end of the table where their final sibling sat, silent throughout the entire meeting. Uriel, like his siblings, possessed a pair of magnificent white wings with metallic gold tips and a glowing halo above his head. The Divine Truth was dressed in a simple brown monk's robe, a cowl pulled over his head that had spent the entirety of the meeting tilted towards the floor, arms crossed.

Slowly, the archangel's head lifted with a creak. Meeting his sibling's imploring gaze with the cold lifeless eyes of his antique bronze mask, an expression of melancholic grief always on display; Uriel's true emotions buried under the mask. The Divine Truth sat still for a second… before slowly shaking his head and getting out of his seat, heading out of the council chamber without a single word uttered as usual.

"We should have expected that, of course." Michael said, unsurprised.

"Poor Uriel…" Gabriel sighed, "Still mourning our fallen siblings after all these years, I hope he feels better someday."

"Agreed, sister." Michael said, before waving his hand dismissively, "Anyways, our meeting is now over. You two may go now. I wish to be left alone for a moment please."

"Of course, take care, brother." Raphael said, as he and Gabriel left the room.

"My sentiments exactly, Raphael." Michael said, flashing him a curt smile before the doors to the council chambers closed. "Good luck for your round, I am certain you won't disappoint."

"That meeting certainly went well," Gabriel commented sarcastically as she and Raphael stood outside the council chamber, "you think Michael's conferring with his 'muse' again?"

"Didn't we agree to stop making fun of him for that?" Raphael chuckled, "Just because we never heard this muse before, doesn't mean he hasn't."

"ALLEGEDLY, he has," Gabriel giggled, "Hard to get over the fact that our eldest brother still hangs on to his imaginary friend. Oh, speaking of friends…" Gabriel pointed down the hall where Joan of Arc was approaching the two of them, "seems like your student is here. I leave you two to chat, best of luck for your match, brother!"

…

"How did the meeting go, Lord Raphael?" Joan of Arc inquired as the teacher and disciple walked aimlessly down the many hallways of the temple together.

"It definitely could have gone better than I hoped…" Raphael sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It seems that I am still unfortunately slated to fight for the gods in the upcoming round."

"Lord Michael set you up for this, didn't he?" The Warrior Saint said in a slightly disapproving tone.

"I know how it might sound," Raphael gently explained, "But we both know that my brother only wished the best for the angels, and by extension all of mankind."

"I still have my doubts on how sending you against us is supposed to work in our favor." Joan replied grimly, "Lord Michael has always placed far too much stock in reputation… there have been many times where I feel it blinds him to what truly needs to be done."

"Ho, what is this? My ever-faithful disciple is now questioning authority? Who are you and what have you done with Joan," Raphael teased, attempting to lighten the mood, earning an amused smile from the Warrior Saint.

"My faith in the archangels' noble cause will never falter." Joan proclaimed, suddenly coming to a stop, "Not when my dear teacher is here, always ready to fight for what is right. We may be on opposing sides, and some might consider you an obstacle blocking mankind's path to survival. But in my eyes, you will always be the kind mentor who guided me every step of the way."

Raphael stops walking all of a sudden, the metal clinks of his bracers causing Joan to pause as well. As she turns, she sees a look of silent joy on his face, a tear running down his eyes and she swiftly rushes over to wipe it away with her sleeve. "Lord Raphael… Is something... the matter?"

"Nothing could be further from the truth, Joan," Raphael said, breaking into a smile as he wipes his eyes dry. "I am simply… touched that you still choose to believe in me in spite of the circumstances we find ourselves in. I… truly do not deserve your loyalty, Joan."

All of a sudden, the archangel leaned forward. Folding his wings as he embraced Joan in a brief but tender hug. The Warrior Saint raises her arms in surprise getting them pinned between Raphael's arms and chest. "L-Lord Raphael!?" She yelps in surprise, her face flushing over in an instant.

Raphael swiftly lets go and steps back a little step. "... my apologies. I did not mean to make you... uncomfortable. I simply... wished to express my gratitude."

Joan fixes her hair a little. "Not to worry. Not to worry. I was simply surprised is all..." she clears her throat, giving Raphael a big grin. "I appreciate it, Lord Raphael. It means a lot to hear. Just remember to go easy on whoever Lord Prometheus sends out, though you may be foes, you both just wish to protect those you hold dear."

Raphael smiled, patting his disciple on the head, "I will, my dear disciple, I promise."

But as the two of them continued to enjoy their aimless stroll through the never-ending passageways of the temple, seeds of doubt and conflict tore into Raphael's mind underneath his smiling exterior. Did he really have it in him to go against the people he had always sworn to defend? Or should he do as his heart told him, even if it meant risking his pantheon's prestige and safety?

Looking up, the Holy Nurse saw his ever-faithful Joan in front of him, his closest friend and disciple, at one point he thought of her as the daughter he never had… She was but a mere human, but her faith and kindness were deserving of the divine. But now? She had grown into a fine warrior and woman. Her faith, her kindness, her wisdom had all grown alongside her. Was he really going to fight for those who wished for her destruction? At that moment, with a silent look of steely resolve, Raphael made his final decision.

"I'm sorry Michael," He thought, "I can only hope that one day you'll forgive me."

…

Elsewhere

Far away from the rest of the Heavens, was the residence of Heaven's human population, Folkvangr. A massive patch of land stretching far and wide, accommodating various people from different cultures and time periods, smaller sections of the area divided and designated for each of them. There were Brick terraced houses hailing from the British Victorian era, suburban American housing from the 1950s, sturdy Viking longhouses with their thatched roofs and tall glass skyscrapers from the 21st century towering high above the rest.

But though it seemed massive in scale, Folkvangr's space in the Heavens was comparatively miniscule in the face of the lands of the various pantheons. Mount Olympus and the cities of the Greek Pantheon alone could take up half of its entirety. Regardless, on that day in a particular district of Folkvangr made up of various small houses built out of clay and straw bricks baked hard in the sun, was a site of great importance.

With the hoe in hand, a lone laborer plowed through a large field of crops situated behind one of the many houses in the area, most with an outside set of stairs on their sides leading up to a flat roof. Like an automated robot, the man worked tirelessly, shaping the soil to form shallow trenches and planting new seeds. A process he repeated many times over till every part of the field was cultivated, and only then did he stop for a moment to wipe the sweat that stained his brow and body.

"That's him right there," the owner of the house said to Prometheus, pointing at the man as the two of them entered the field from the backdoor. "That crazy man just turned up at my house one day, offering to do whatever my family wished for an entire year. Farming, cooking, repairs, anything is on the table! We've tried offering him food and lodging in repayment, but he rejected them all in favor of more labor. It's a wonder how he hasn't worked himself to death yet!"

"I see," Prometheus replied, watching the worker pick up a scythe as he moved to another patch of crops, harvesting the full-grown crops with the same steady unyielding rhythm as before. "And how long has it been since he has been in your services?"

"Uh, I would say about six months? But you know…" the owner suddenly leaned towards Prometheus, his eyes glinting with gossip, "From what I've heard from my neighbors, this man has been here, giving out the same offer YEARS before me or my ancestors have even set foot in this realm!"

"That I know. Though you must forgive me, kind sir…" Prometheus said as he moved forward to approach the man, "for I might have to cut your year with him shorter than you both intended."

Walking till he was a few feet behind him, Prometheus finally got a good look at the laborer as he continued on with his hard work, completely unbothered by the presence of the Titan standing right behind him. The laborer was a well-built man, bald and muscular with tanned brown skin covered in various parts with intricate line tattoos, such as his face, chest, left bicep and right wrist. As for his outfit, he was topless, fashioning tattered white loincloth over a pair of ragged brown trousers, both speckled and stained with dirt and sweat. His calloused hands, worn from years of hard labor, were wrapped in loose bandages.

"I thought I had already told you not to ask me again, Titan." He said as he reaped multiple grains of crops in a single effort, his voice carrying a commanding regal tone, unfitting for a man undertaking such a strenuous task. "Unlike others, my after life is filled with much more responsibilities than playing hero in your war against the gods."

"Believe me, Ramses." Prometheus replied through gritted teeth, "I had hoped that I wouldn't be forced to call upon you so soon… or even have to in the first place. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and here I am knocking on your door."

"This is not my door."

The laborer, now revealed to be Pharaoh Ramses II made no further response, simply choosing to ignore the Titan's last words as he continued to harvest the rest of the crop in the field. Prometheus sighed, before reluctantly pulling out his trump card against the defiant Einherjar.

"Your opponent is going to be an archangel."

All of a sudden, Ramses became rigidly still, his hand still raised above his head mid-swing, hovering over the crops ready to be reaped. Letting it drop to his side, the pharaoh slowly turned around to face Prometheus. His face was an eerie deadpan, but his amber eyes burnt hard with a raging fire as he opened his mouth to speak.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Prometheus repeated, "an archangel is the next representative of the gods."

"Which one?" Ramses growled, almost taking a step forward before stopping himself, "No it doesn't matter… any one of those winged hypocrites will do, I shall go." But as Ramses moved past the Titan, he felt a heavy weight land atop his clavicle. Prometheus had placed his hand firmly upon the pharaoh's shoulder, a dark expression across his face that mirrored Ramses' as he looked down with a disapproving glare.

"I know of your past with the archangels…" Prometheus said in an imploring tone, "and I know of your action and their divine retaliation against said actions. What happened to you was… regrettable, but how events have unfolded cannot be changed, pinning all the blame on others will not free you from your hate. I know this particular archangel, he is nothing like what you think of them. So, I implore you… in some way or another, have empathy when you go against him.

For a moment, the Titan and the pharaoh stood in silence… before Ramses' stoic features broke and he let out a loud scoff that soon morphed into cold biting laughter. "Funny… you speak of empathy and mercy, yet you call upon me knowing full well what I will bring to this battle? I am no liar, titan, so I will give you a choice. You now have the chance to reconsider and perhaps send some weak-willed replacement to sympathize with your friend instead, whether or not they live or die we shall see. OR I go as originally planned, with both you and I knowing that the moment I set foot in that ring with the angel, blood will be spilled."

Prometheus' eyes narrowed, but never once did Ramses' hardened expression falter under the Titan's divine gaze. As the two of them continued to stare each other down, Prometheus' mind raced, jumping between the two possible outcomes laid out before him. Each option carried heavy consequences, but with a deep frustrated sigh, the Titan finally made his choice, knowing that while far from ideal, his final decision carried far less risk for their side. And so, with a heavy heart, Prometheus let go of Ramses' shoulder. Letting out a begrudging sigh as he motioned for his chosen fighter to follow to the Akashic Records, where Pandora's box waited for him to claim his Divine Weapon.

Ramses pushed past the Titan, his features finally softening somewhat as he led the way. "If it is any consolation to you, Prometheus. I too shan't find any joy from this necessary endeavor."

For a moment, the Titan of Foresight stood tall in the cultivated soil, silently contemplating as the gravity of the decision he had just made fully sank in. Hanging his head and letting out a shaky breath, Prometheus turned to leave as well.

"My apologies Raphael… I wish it didn't have to be this way."