The sky seemed to split apart, creaking from the horrid din of battle. The ground was broken and wasted as if some leviathan had taken a bite out of it. Shapes moved on the ground, as if dancing through a sea of chaos. The world was coming to an end while these two factions warred; their power rending the planet. The armies of Heaven and Hell clashed desperately in a clinging embrace that left the ground littered with bodies. These two beasts brought naught but ruin to wherever they treaded, and left with only the scars and casualties that signed of a long and glorious conflict.
Agaliarept fought through the crowd of angels, his dark red eyes reflecting little light. As he hacked and slashed through the hordes, he noticed the tide of the battle turning toward the favor of the Vrâisâil. This win would be a major battle that could influence the ending of the war that plagued the Three Realms. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his Kræm, a double-bladed weapon that resembled two scythes connected by the shaft, and began to spin it. As a wave of heavenly warriors converged upon him, he let loose the weapon, releasing it from his control.
The weapon screamed forward, intent on shedding the serum of light that flowed through these beings. As an angel was struck by it, the weapon screeched and tore through its body, carving it in half. The weapon continued the bloody charge, its momentum carrying it through shield and body alike. When it reached a certain point it curved again towards the one who had released it, while clearing a swathe through the battalion that faced him. He caught it deftly in his fingers, comforted by the warmth of a weapon he had used for millennia.
Agaliarept felt a pressure engulf the battlefield and steeled himself for the coming battle. A beam of light shot down from the sky and slammed into the ground with all of the fury of a tornado mixed with an earthquake. For the first time in days, the battlefield was completely silent, save for the clanking of weapons on the ground. He smiled kindly when Michael, greatest of the Archangels, descended, letting his weapon dangle loosely in his hand, yet ready to spring to life if it was demanded.
A demon rushed at Michael foolishly, without even looking upwards, Michael swung his whole body into the stroke, decapitating the demon with a clean horizontal slice. Agaliarept grinned, knowing the power that Michael commanded, and also knowing that it was more than his own. He also knew that Michael could not easily defeat him, though, and it would likely take days for him to do so. He balanced on the balls of his feet; shifting his weight back and forth, completely immersed in his readiness of the cataclysmic battle he knew was to come. It is not often that a Prince of Hell meets an Archangel in direct battle.
Michael looked upwards at Agaliarept, and smiled a gentle greeting.
"It has only been a few thousand years, has it not? I will enjoy your destruction wholeheartedly," he said with a light tone, not attempting to hide his malicious intent.
"Try me," answered Agaliarept, "Last time I fought I wasn't at my peak, but I am now."
He grinned, beginning to swing his Kræm in a tight circle. As it reached the full speed, Michael launched towards him, drawing his sword, with the speed and power of lightning. He brought up his Kræm to parry the blow and felt the explosive force of their weapons colliding rock the battlefield.
They fought like dancers, their skill with their respective weapons bringing awe to all those that watched. Only those who were close to two fighters noticed the grins on both of their faces, and how they sincerely were enjoying this battle. After all, it was very rare to find a worthy opponent when you were one of the most powerful sixteen beings in existence. Their battle raged for a day and a night, while all who had been fighting laid down their weapons and watched with rapt attention. Finally, Agaliarept, knowing he was nearing the end of his strength, decided to make a last bid effort to win the fight. As he swung, he threw his Kræm into his other hand and put all of his strength into that one attack. Michael parried it with a backhanded swing, dislodging Agaliarept's Kræm and making it fly high into the sky. He held his sword to Agaliarept's throat as the bladed weapon flew down, embedding itself deep into the ground at Michael's feet.
Michael spoke with authority, "Agaliarept, Revealer of Secrets, do you have any last words before I take your life?"
Agaliarept knew he was defeated, and chose to die with honor and glory that befit a Prince of Hell. He shouted, "My life has not been in vain, for I have served Satan well and made him proud in battle!"
Michael raised his sword above his head, preparing for the deathblow that would end this battle. As he brought it down on Agaliarept's neck, he thought of the memories they shared in millennia past. He was stunned when he saw a blade stop his, mere inches from the soft flesh that yearned to be opened.
He jumped backwards, bringing his sword to a defensive stance as he looked upon the newcomer. What Michael saw stunned him, and he almost unwittingly dropped his blade. Enlil stood before him, dark red eyes staring intelligently at his own. Michael had never met the Lord of Hell's second-in-command before and he could feel the power radiating from the being that stood over Agaliarept, shielding him from any further assault.
They stared at each other, both knowing very well what the other was thinking of. The fact was that one of them would not be leaving this place alive. Michael barely felt tired from his previous fight and had enjoyed it immensely; his mirth was to the point that he found killing Agaliarept to be a shame, as very few beings in existence could hold their own with him.
Michael stilled his mind and prepared for the fight that very well could be his last. As Enlil took up a fighting stance, he tried to analyze his enemy. He could read nothing into Enlil's tactics, as he stood calmly, yet attentively watching Michael. With a nod, they launched towards each other, blades aimed for the spark they both had in common. Their blades flashed at a speed that onlookers could not even observe, creating a blur in the air where they met. This exchange lasted several minutes, until both broke away with a small backwards leap. Michael noticed a small golden drop on his shoulder, and sure enough, he had a small cut on his cheek. This was the first time he had seen his blood in as long as he could remember.
They fought for weeks, relentlessly assaulting each other, while their wounds slowly piled up. Yet even with their injuries and exhaustion, neither of them could land a deathblow on the other. When both of them were ready to collapse, they both prepared to unleash one final strike upon each other. They both pointed their swords at each other, and rushed towards each other at an imperceptible speed, bent on ending the other's life. As they crossed, they each felt a sharp pain in their stomachs and looking down saw a clean wound from the hip to below the armpit.
They both laughed and collapsed where they were, bleeding heavily. As they fell the demons and angels on the battlefield swarmed towards them, intent on protecting their own leader as well as finishing off the other. As the legion of creatures approached the two beings, there was a cataclysmic rumble, and two figures appeared, standing tall and proud.
The appearance of these figures caused the entire battlefield to fall to their knees in reverence, for these were the two that were the spearhead of their respective armies. Satan and Yahweh looked upon each other, glancing up and down at the foe they knew too well.
Satan spoke in a powerful, commanding voice, "Hello, brother."
Yahweh answered simply, "Shall we finish this?"
"Yes, indeed we shall."
Instantaneously, the world became a jumble of light and darkness, closing off all sense of sight. The angels and demons could do nothing but tremble against the ground where they lay, feeling the power of two opposing gods shake the world. Yahweh drew a spear of pure light that blinded all that looked upon it, while Satan unsheathed a scythe that left those who even glanced at it with no sight for as long as they existed.
They stood in combat positions, and then each, yelling a battle cry that shook the ground, disappeared. A sudden explosion blew a crater into the ground; in the center of this crater they stood with weapons locked. They both jumped back, and propelling themselves off the ground, flew towards the center of the crater with deadly momentum.
As they were about to make contact, they suddenly felt a force blast them away, as if they had hit a force field that was invisible. What they saw in the center of that circle chilled them to their cores. The Nameless One stood there. The Nameless One was ever elusive, and both had seen it only once before, in a time before time. It did not need to see, for it inhabited both light and darkness, and so had omnipotence that stretched far beyond the edges of creation. It spoke a phrase that was from the Lost Language and known only to it, for the Lost Language was before either Yahweh or Satan came into existence.
The Nameless One shouted, "Raal, V'kar Kirnsh!" and both Satan and Yahweh collapsed, put into an eternal slumber that could only be broken by the Lost Language, and none other than The Nameless One had any knowledge of it. The armies were left to regroup and get their leaders to safety. For the first time since Separation, the Three Realms were at peace.