1 Death

Chapter 1: Death

"Why?"

The voice choked with emotion as he asked the question, "Was I wrong? Is telling the truth now a crime?" he pleaded, his heart heavy with the oppressive yoke of unfairness.

The young man's colossal wings hung lifeless at his sides, their black feathers appearing almost ashen in the dim light. The tragic figure of this man was made all the more poignant by the contrast between his dark eyes and jet-black hair, a combination that was deemed taboo in the eyes of heaven. Despite his youthful age of 210, he found himself at the edge of the abyss.

From a young age, he had been an outcast, an anomaly in the eyes of heaven. And when the time had come to speak out against the injustice that plagued his world, he had not hesitated. But now, as he stood on the premise of death, the consequences of his actions bore down on him.

His family, who should have loved and supported him, had instead turned against him. And the person he had once thought he loved had only used him for their own gain, leaving him feeling hollow and betrayed. Even in the great expanse of Heaven, he had been unable to find true and eternal happiness.

As he was dragged through the bustling streets of his birth city, the young man couldn't help but feel a sense of despair wash over him. All he could do was laugh bitterly at the irony of it all, wondering how he had ever believed in a justice that was so easily twisted. The one created by his own god.

As the procession to execution began, a restless crowd gathered around him. Some jeered and shouted insults, while others threw stones and pebbles, their harsh words and projectiles raining down on him like a hailstorm.

As the stones struck him, a dark liquid oozed from his wounds, staining the ground beneath him. His blood was like a thick, black tar, considered by many as a dark omen. It made the onlookers recoil in fear and superstition. "The Dark Angel" became his legendary moniker, rising in status from a simple title.

He had only experienced genuine joy once, when he believed he had found his soulmate. But that joy vanished when he realized it was a mirage, leaving him in a never-ending cycle of pain and sorrow. That was another addition to his pain.

The cries of the bloodthirsty crowd grew louder as they chanted, "Kill him immediately! Execute him!"

Even the innocent children looked upon him with eyes filled with hatred and disgust, as if he were a vile and loathsome creature.

In a world where children were revered as beacons of purity, it was a bitter reality to see their innocence twisted and contorted by the prejudices of the adults around them. They mimicked the actions of their elders, unable to comprehend the true tedium of their deeds.

The Dark Angel couldn't help but feel a sense of bitter satisfaction at the sight before him. He felt a sense of resignation wash over him, no longer caring for the world that had turned its back on him.

The metal that once shone gold now looked tarnished and blackened, as if corrupted by the darkness that surrounded him. Despite digging into his flesh, causing him to wince, the pain was nothing compared to the agony he had endured in his life.

Two guards stood before the prisoner, towering over him in their formidable golden armor. The crests of winged horses - Pegasus - emblazoned on their chests, glistened in the sun.

All eyes were fixed on the condemned man, waiting for the moment when justice would be served. The curses that reverberated throughout the area were suddenly hushed away by a piercing cry that echoed across the square, causing the crowd to stir with confusion.

The dark angel, who had resigned himself to his fate, summoned all his remaining strength and forced his eyes open.

He did his utmost best to gaze at the person who let out the cry.

As the dark angel strained to focus on the figure in front of him, he felt a surge of gratitude towards the stranger who had spoken up for him.

He was too weak to move his gaze around, but he didn't even need to try as the one who shouted, happened to be right in front of him. Although their eyes didn't meet, the dark angel did get a chance to catch a glimpse of the kind person, who had extended his life by a few.

Her lips were alluring as a rose, tempting and seductive, and her eyes were the colour of a clear blue sky on a sunny day. Her golden tresses cascaded down her back, reminiscent of the golden rays of the sun.

The criminal's eyes were fixated on the stranger, unable to break away from the familiarity of their features.

"You… why?" he managed to stutter, his voice barely above a whisper.

"STOP!" she shouted, her voice carrying an otherworldly power that left everyone stunned.

The dark angel could feel his heart racing with anticipation, his first and only love standing before him, a mysterious and striking figure.

As she shed her cloak, revealing a figure that could only be described as divine, the onlookers were struck with awe. Men were captivated by her beauty, and women were envious of her grace.

With each measured step she took, the girl's eyes locked on the dark angel's form, and the pain he bore became more acute. Despite the agony, the dark angel couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude. For if he could have someone stand by him, even if only for a moment, he could bear any hardship that came his way.

It was a painful reminder of what he had lost, but he couldn't deny the attraction he still felt towards her.

As she appeared in sight, the dark angel felt a sudden jolt of realization that snapped him out of his daze. It was as if a light had been switched on inside his mind, giving him a glimmer of hope that he had thought was lost.

However, he had already succumbed to his fate, resigned to the inevitable approach of death.

A secondary thought did emerge, which was in contrast to the first one.

As he lay there, his fate seemingly sealed, he couldn't help but wonder if she had come to say goodbye. The reality of the situation was overwhelming, and the idea of a final farewell seemed all too plausible.

But, he soon came to a dark realization that her intentions were anything but pure, a twisted plot that would reveal itself in due time.

"Alisha… I wanted to see you," the Dark Angel's voice was weak and strained, filled with exhaustion and defeat.

Despite the excruciating pain, the Dark Angel spoke in a weak, gentle voice, choosing to set aside any anger or bitterness towards Alisha and focus on the present moment of her being with him.

He forced a smile, looking more like a grimace, but was willing to endure discomfort to get what he wanted - one wish from her or perhaps, a few words.

He took a deep breath, gathering all his strength and courage, and spoke softly, "I know it's too much to ask, but I have one last wish. Can you grant it for me?"

As the Dark Angel looked up at Alisha, hoping for a glimmer of compassion in her eyes, he was shocked to see nothing but pure disdain. Alisha's gaze pierced through him like a thousand daggers.

Despite being the one who had cheated and betrayed, she shifted the blame onto the Dark Angel, portraying him as the villain and further breaking his spirit, knowing that he was already ostracized and alone.

With a desperate tone, he managed to utter a single word, "Alisha...?" His eyes locked onto hers, pleading for an explanation or some form of redemption.

The Dark Angel felt his heart sink as he saw the look of determination in Alisha's eyes. He had hoped for some kind of explanation or redemption, but now he realized that his fate was sealed.

Alisha's gaze never left the executioner as she demanded the sword. The man nodded, his face bewildered as she unsheathed the weapon and stepped forward.

The executioner's confusion quickly turned to dread as he caught the glint in Alisha's eyes. Her smirk was sinister, sending shivers down his spine.

The Dark Angel's eyes widened in fear as he realized that this was it - the end of his life but the process leading to death was yet to end.

"Arghhh!"

The Dark Angel let out a bloodcurdling scream as the sword sliced through his wings. The sound that escaped his lips was one of unimaginable agony and despair. His body writhed in agony as blood dripped from the stumps of his once majestic black wings.

The strength for the cries… their origin couldn't be known. But who thinks about that while looking at someone in pain?

They only laugh or show fake sympathy, the latter was not an option for him though.

The onlookers had no interest in understanding his pain, they only found joy in his misery. He was met with raucous laughter as everyone seemed to relish in his suffering, adding salt to the already gaping wounds.

"I can't stand these disgusting black wings of yours," Alisha sneered, her words dripping with venom. "They're a blight on the beauty of this world. It's about time they were gone."

The crowd that had gathered around them cheered in agreement. "Yes, you did a great job getting rid of those foul things!" one of them shouted.

The executioner clapped, and as if on cue, the audience joined in a cacophonous applause that echoed throughout the city. Alisha's lips twisted into a wicked grin as she basked in the surreal atmosphere.

"Let me do the honour of killing him!" she said, with her eyes cold and unfeeling. The crowd fell silent, not as much as earlier, as they watched her step forward - a gleeful smile spreading across her face, unable to comprehend the depths of her cruelty.

'The ones who seek Strength may end up Astray. But the Ones who Seek the Right Path will be greeted by Indefinite Strength.'

Despite his unwavering faith and commitment to the path of righteousness, the Dark Angel never received the limitless strength that was promised.

His cries were filled with an unbridled rage that had been building within him since birth. After enduring unspeakable horrors, his anger-filled volcano finally erupted. He spoke with chilling intensity, leaving all who heard it trembling.

In a moment of shocking clarity, he managed to spit out two words that rang out like a curse in the silence of the crowd. "Fuck you," he said, the intensity of his hatred directed towards the one who had betrayed him, as well as the unjust system that had failed him.

The words were golden, their meaning elusive and unknown to all. Even the Dark Angel, who may have stumbled upon them in some ancient texts of God's creations, could not decipher their significance. Yet, his intuition urged him to speak them, despite his lack of understanding.

His expression conveyed the unpleasant nature of the unknown phrase, leaving everyone with a sense of dread.

"You all made me this way. It was your constant discrimination and relentless bullying that pushed me to the very edge. And now, as I stand here before you, facing my fate, all you do is put the blame on me? As if I am the only one responsible for what has happened!"

The golden words had unleashed a torrent of pent-up emotions, fueling him with a newfound strength that seemed to have no end. It was as if the words had unlocked a hidden reserve of energy, allowing him to continue on relentlessly.

"I'm sure you all believe me to be an ominous figure, don't you? Well, then let me give you a word to ponder about," he said, a wry smile playing on his lips as the audience shifted uneasily in their seats.

"Revenge."

"A good word right?" he asked with a deceptively charming smile.

With slow and deliberate emphasis on each word, he spoke again, "I'll make sure to have my revenge."

The audience fell silent, and even the bravest among them couldn't help but feel a sense of unease at the dark promise that hung in the air.

"I realize now that it wasn't you, but me who was wrong," he said, his voice carrying a tinge of regret and remorse.

"I shouldn't have stayed quiet while you all barked!" he exclaimed, his voice rising in anger.

"I should have unleashed utter chaos and obliterated every single soul who dared to stand in defiance against me."

Despite the quivering of his voice and the imperfections in his delivery, the intensity of his curse was palpable. As he spoke, the air around him began to thrum with a chaotic energy, as if the very fabric of reality was being rent asunder.

"I should have been the audience of this Execution Show," he exclaimed with a deep, guttural chuckle that echoed throughout the city.

"Hahahaha."

"..."

The moment of silence that hung in the air was almost conspicuous, as if the very atmosphere had been stripped of all sound and movement.

But then, without warning, his laughter erupted once again. The sound of his laughter was almost contagious, a perverse, sickening contagion that filled the air around him with a sense of unease.

"Hahahaha."

"Hahaha."

"Ha…"

"I'm not a heartless fool like you," he snarled, his voice low and menacing. "So, I won't stop from giving you a warning before killing you…."

His voice was low and measured, each word carefully enunciated with a chilling clarity that left no room for doubt. "But beware," he warned, his eyes glinting with a sinister light. "If we ever have the misfortune of crossing paths again, forget about returning alive."

With a voice that rang out like a clarion call, he spoke with a boldness and determination that could not be denied. "You won't live another day to see the sunrise, for I am the Dark Angel!"

"..."

The people who had been shouting and jeering before now stood in stunned silence, as if they had been struck mute by the power of his voice.

The criminal's lips remained sealed, not a single syllable escaping them. For what felt like an eternity, he remained frozen in place.

The lady with the sword, Alisha, stood frozen in shock, her eyes wide with disbelief. Her hand, which had been gripping the hilt of her sword with an iron grip, now trembled slightly, as if she had suddenly lost the strength to hold it steady.

Lost in thought, memories of their time together flooded her mind. Yet, she couldn't recall a single moment of him displaying such anger or raising his voice like that.

She couldn't tear her eyes away from his jet-black hair, which seemed to absorb all the light around it, leaving her with a sense of foreboding.

She was jolted back to reality as the crowd erupted into a chant, their voices calling for the death of the Dark Angel, a shock to her senses.

Alisha raised her sword high above her head, the metal glinting in the sunlight. She brought it down with all her strength, the blade whooshing through the air towards the criminal's neck.

Just as it was about to make contact, he murmured a single, defiant phrase: "Fuck you."

The sword cut through the air with a sickening swish as it pierced through the angel's head. The once proud and majestic figure, who was supposedly a criminal in the eyes of Heaven, now lay crumpled and defeated before them.

The roar of the crowd was deafening as they erupted into wild cheers, their excitement and jubilation filling the air like an infectious energy.

As Alisha raised the sword, droplets of blood flew from its blade, splattering onto her face and clothes. Alisha's triumph quickly turned to horror as the dark angel's head rolled towards her feet with a sickening thud, leaving a trail of blood behind.

As Alisha raised her gaze to the dark angel's severed head, she was struck by a sudden chill. The eyeballs seemed to move of their own accord, fixing on her with a cold, penetrating stare. His lips twitched, as if trying to form one last curse, and his gaze then turned to the crowd. It was as if he was etching their faces into his memory, leaving behind a chilling reminder of his malevolent spirit.

She was baffled by what happened and rubbed her eyes once, to check if she was merely hallucinating. The lifeless eyes of the dark angel seemed to stare back at her, as if condemning her for what she had done.

She couldn't shake the feeling that something was off, that there was more to the dark angel's death than she had initially thought.

"Yeah, I must have made a mistake," she said aloud to herself, but her voice lacked conviction.

Indeed, she did, but the one she realized was the wrong one!

She murmured those damning words, "You should have never been born...," as the gravity of her decision settled in.

.

.

.

The dark angel's voice was cold and hollow as the words escaped its lips. "And that's how I was murdered," he whispered. It was followed by a hollow, mocking laughter that echoed through the darkness.

The boy's jet-black hair whipped around in the wind as he gazed up at the endless expanse of the night sky. His piercing black eyes glinted with a fierce determination as he uttered those ominous words.

"But fret not, for I swear on the name of The Dark Angel, that I will have my revenge," he declared, his voice ringing out with a newfound sense of purpose.

His features were starkly contrasted against the pale moonlight - his skin was smooth and white, almost ethereal in its beauty. It was a stark contrast to the dark angel's rough, tanned skin. As he spoke, he clenched his fist so tightly that his uncut nails pierced through the skin, drawing blood.

And as the boy stared up at the stars, a new chapter began to unfold - one of darkness and revenge.