“I tried— multiple times, I laughed it off— when… he’d go crazy, I tell you— Miles went crazy all the time, I regret not being there for him— now he’s gone, manipulated by a devil wearing an angel’s halo. Fuck.” Micheal Pendragon was in a bar, drinking— the lights futuristic as the windows shown a utopia— bright innovative buildings, skyscrapers which pierced into the heavens— like a drill whilst cars were soaring through the air as if it was a race course, Micheal was wearing a silk white— archetypical cloak which covered his whole body, his lanky stature— his muscles faded leaving just a malnourished state— his face, the vision of it was obscured. Beside him was a Caucasian man: mint green eyes which stared directly at Micheal’s blurry face, flowing length white hair which rained down to his neck— a dark beauty mark which contrasted the rest of his peachy skin, he was wearing a baby blue puffer jacket— ripped jeans, chuckling.

  “Miles Phillips— the media ignores that guy now. Due to Floria’s new haven like experience, thanks to me of course but— dude, just relax— he’s not dead so if he gets reformed in there maybe you’ll meet him again, who knows the dimensions of that world— maybe they never age and he’s fending well for himself.” Felix Nightingale winked, “Amarze on the other hand…”“That bastard is a strong one— manipulated my brother, do we even know his power?”

  “He was able to kill majority of Invalia— clearly not all.” Felix pointed at a television screen in the bar— it was large encompassing most of the curved metallic wall, broadcasting news depicting the terrorist Teysu from Samiel’s army combatting Ostra’s forces.

  “We got to talk with the other Saints.” Micheal grabbed the blur off his face— tearing it off, his skin… youthful— inhuman, thick brown eyebrows— a crew cut, black and yellow eyes. “I’m sure they’ll have an idea on what to do—”

  “Relax buddy! Listen— Samiel’s forces— they aren’t competent at all, barely been able to touch our world and when they attempt— the twins redirect their attacks back at them— I can always call Jeremiah if we need advice.” Felix shrugged, he got off from his square stool before walking towards the door— opening automatically.

  “Let’s go then.” He motioned as Micheal followed— they left the bar, staring at the street— it was full of pompous technological advancements, buildings speaking— delivery services hovering and a pitch black sky— the neon lights illuminating the city as if it was a firework show.

  “You really helped with all this— it’s surreal to believe.” Micheal put his shoulder around Felix who laughed.

  “Listen— Nightingale Corporation has boosted due to the Lord— without him, I wouldn’t be here—makes me not regret the Reprisal.”

  Micheal grinned— he dug through the pockets of his cloak before equipping a smartphone— small stature- pocket sized, before dialling a number.

  “Where are you two—I need to pick you up.” A voice buzzed— bored.

  “Sorry bro— been busy drinking.” Felix raised a glass of Hennessey in his hand.

  “Typical.” The phone cut off.

  Silence was with the two.

  Before they simply laughed, attracting attention however nobody looked at them weirdly— instead the assortment of individuals flocked towards the two, hordes of people begging for selfies, autographs— acknowledgment.

  Felix grinned— he wrapped his arm around two women— posing before the photo took whilst Micheal was still darting his eyes at him— attempting to alarm him to leave.

  HONK HONK.

  An unprecedented platinum hover-car appeared in the sky, it was four seats— convertible as there was a driver and another beside him.

  The driver was a Medean teenager: he had a puffy charcoal afro with a three-legged comb stuck in it, his face— frowning, his cheeks de puffed— revealing hollow cheeks and his eyes narrowed, caramel— red lollipop shoved in his mouth with bright beaming visible red horns on the top of his, paired alongside his denim trousers and plain black t-shirt.

  The passenger beside him was a late teenage girl: brunette hair flowing from her scalp down to the top half of her torso, pale skin and hazel eyes— freckles but slight and she was dressed in a stained peach tank top— brown baggy trousers with a belt holster for her gun, she stared at the two below them— unamused.

  “Jeremy! Ilya! Why the small faces?” Felix mocked— cooing, “Aw— you two are together, what a couple!”

  “She’s expired.” Jeremiah taunted— turning towards the girl who slapped him in the face.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  “Douchebag— anyway, get in— I should be doing my duties… and paperwork.” She yawned— eyebags dropped her eyes down as her eyes fluttered.

  Felix tapped his blue sandals— grabbing onto Micheal; the shoes leaped up from the crowd into the car seats, smoothly— as the four drove off instantaneously.

  “What were you two even talking about.” Jeremiah coughed— he stared at the two before readjusting his rear mirror.

  “He’s sobbing over Micheal.” Felix rolled his eyes, playfully—“He’s just like the Saints since before we came in.”

  “Fucking hell— we got to talk to Paris when we reach the Cathedral— he’s just being a dick again.” Ilya swore— she looked at the window, the car breezing past skyscrapers and apartment complexes at the speed of light.

  “You take your drivers license Demon-Child, you are driving way too fast.” Micheal giggled as Jeremiah shrugged his shoulders— his hands leaving the steering wheel as he began to complain.

  “Listen! I’ve had to deal with your shit for 5 years— let me drive recklessly! It’s thrilling.”

  “Oh don’t say that again— bad memories.” Ilya facepalmed— reminiscing of Jonah.

  “Other than that— and the third challenge, it wasn’t horrible— it’s why we are all friends with each other.” Jeremiah smiled— his toothy grin blinding the mirror as he weaved past another car.

  “Too reckless— but you are right, I wonder where the others are at— it’s like graduating from school.” Felix chuckled, winding down the window as he lit up a cigarette.

  “You should put that away.” Ilya stared out the window— outside was the Golden Cathedral— home and outside at the gate was a gothic manwaving— comically.

  “Ugh— he’s so fucking annoying.” Felix clapped the cigarette in his hands— it defusing as the car floated down onto the pavement— the concrete flooring supporting the landing.

  “Hell~oooo!” The man spoke: spiky dark Mohawk with pink highlights— bold eyeliner, mascara and vampire skin— fishnet with metal chains and heavy buckles, the trousers were pitch black— baggy as his shoes were pointy and dark. He waved— mockingly as the others walked past him— his eyebrow piercing glowing silver.

  “I hope that magnetic terrorist gets to you Paris— fucking dickhead.” Jeremiah walked past him— staring away from him and at the colossal doors— barging them open as the others followed.

  “So crude.” Paris stared at the ground— before laughing to himself as Ilya slammed the door shut. Shortly after— he stopped muttering quietly.

  “We’ll feast on their despair soon— Loki…”

  The four walked into the entranceway— spudding each other before splitting off into different directions. Jeremiah went to his dorm— focusing on strategies to combat the terrorism, Micheal went to the council chamber— for the saints to converse with the others, Felix went to the throne room to discuss expansions with Thidos as Ilya went to the cafeteria.

  Inside the pristine cafeteria were two figures: a late teenaged male dressed in a black and white checker tuxedo— marks where glasses used to be, cardinal sharp eyes— spiralling, slicked back inky hair and a faint stubble— his shoes pointy, church coupled with a zigzag scar running past his left eye.

  Beside him was a vampire, Jiang Shi— greenish white skin that flowed throughout his body and similar sage green long unkempt hair— sharp fangs, piercing— dressed in official garments, burial from the Qing dynasty— the real world, his eyes jet black and slanted— a fulu covering his face as the two turned to look at Ilya— his body specifically inclining to the side whilst the other stood still, tall.

  They were standing in the middle of the room— the cafeteria empty, bright still— a multitude of vending machines at the corner whilst there were way more sets of tables and chairs, spacious.

  “Gloxer Levy and Nyx— why are the Second and Last angel talking all alone— invite me next time.” Ilya joked as she walked up to two— placing both her hands on each of their heads as they groaned.

  “See— this is why I hate being below her, she does goofy shit!” Nyx raged— his voice had an accent, old world— mixture between east Asian and British as he facepalmed— his pale hands caressing his fulu.

  “I get you— Thidos didn’t even do a first angel— well he said he’s preparing that person but still!” Gloxer flapped Ilya’s hands off as she stumbled back chuckling.

  “I went with Jeremiah to go check on Richard before picking the other two up.”

  “How was he?” Gloxer tilted his head, his tidy black eyebrows raised.

  “The dojo’s going good— he’s getting more people wanting to learn self defence than ever— totally change from what he used to be.” Ilya scratched her head, smiling.

  “I didn’t know him like that— but if he’s a friend of both of you, he’s a friend of me too.” The polite vampire nodded his head.

  “What were you two even speaking about honestly— you guys hide so weirdly.”

  “We were talking history— like about if the old world truly is gone— what if Samiel’s goal really is not total destruction of this world but resurrecting it— the old.” Gloxer folded his arms— his demeanour changed as his face stared at the ground— marble and clear, “I remember finding old archives of the past— footage and every one of her troops, reminds me of something from then.”

  “I told him to keep it secretive— we don’t want allot of buzz around this, especially with those Seraphim— no offence.” Nyx bowed his head before Ilya patted it.

  “They really placed you at number 10, your respect for others should’ve just automatically made you podium instead of someone like Lerais or Peria.” Ilya grinned.

  “Sir Lerais and Sir Peria are still strong in their own regards!” Nyx splattered, still bowing.

  “We all know the Lord’s ranking isn’t down to just power— but other stuff such as intelligence, bravery and all sorts.” Gloxer tapped his chin, “You agree with what I said though right?”

  “There’s a chance… so far her goal is to ignite a war— Thidos has been abstaining whilst Medea is actively fighting back— she’s only combatting one half.” Ilya shook her head, “I feel bad for Gabriel and the Imp.”

  “We should return to our dorms— we can’t keep a fluent lie if we are caught here.” The vampire hopped away— flickering towards the door before fading into the night.

  Gloxer looked at Ilya who nodded— the two simultaneously went through the exit— to their dorms.