The brightness that everything emanated would be enough to blind nearly every mortal instantly.
The ground beneath the feet was a continuous pristine white cloud, despite the irregularities, walking forward was as easy as it was enjoyable, the ground shifted for you as you advanced and its softness seems to wash away any tiredness that could arise from this simple action.
The place was seemingly everlasting and completely empty, save for the denizens and one and only building in this whole expanse.
It was where the only shadows could be found, this place reeked of divinity in its every aspects, it had no defined shape, shifting between all of the styles and sorts of holy grounds built by mortals.
The denizens where all similars to each other, two large, perfect and pristine white wings on their backs, they all wore the same bright white himations and looked like the first ever humans to have touched the earth below.
They didn't seem preoccupied by anything, they simply flew around like headless chickens, awaiting commands from the one inside of the holy building.
They hadn't received any for a long time but they didn't lose faith, they couldn't lose it after all, they were 'perfect', they held no doubts for their creators, they were the second generation for the most part, alongside few of the first.
"..."
Wrath seemed like quite the anomaly amongst all of perfect and eternally subservient angels, carrying weapons, her old blue coat that had since long lost its original coloration, her gruesome injury and dark red hair and eye.
It didn't take long for the other angels to notice her, she might have looked bizarre by their standards but the two, bright white wings on her back were a clear indicator that she was one of them.
That was what those of the second generation thought, absolutely clueless and stripped of their free will and deeper thoughts.
Those of the first generation, which had retained their memories and greater free will immediately recognised her for who she was, though they had never expected her to appear again.
One of the first generation member approached her, seemingly quite happy to see her.
"Michelle! You are back, this must mean that you have been forgiven for-" in the middle of his sentence, he froze as he took a look at her expression.
Even if glare looked deathly cold, it was clear for him to feel the burning hatred smoldering beyond it, this wrath hadn't subsided at all in all of those years, but only grew stronger.
The first generation angel backed off slowly as Wrath finally decided to speak up.
"Are you going to try and stop me?" she asked with utter calmness but the answer to that question was obvious.
"Absolutely! You already lost the first war, all of the traitors have been banished and sent to the depth of hell!" reminded the angel to Wrath, although his shaky voice clearly indicated that he wasn't certain of himself at all.
"I only see angels of the third spheres here, not only that, there aren't any principalities or archangels around at all, I guess the great and omnipotent god here is out of juice, even after so many years, he lacks the power to replace all of those that I killed" she remarked, causing silence to befall all of those around her.
"Does he even knows that I came back here?" she wondered aloud as she placed her visible calloused hands on the hilt of her saber.
"Do-" before anyone could even try to dissuade her, they had already lost the ability to express themselves as holy blood and feathers rained all around.
Still, as angels they remained conscious for a while longer even with their bodies having been diced up.
Their blood fell on Wrath, coloring her gorgeous whith wings red, only with her wings tainted red was she truly recognisable as the angel she used to be.
Michelle, The Angel Of War, one of the few to pick up arms in the name of their holy lord and creator.
Wrath walked over the gore and made her way for the one that claimed himself to be at the top of all other deities, the god of control.
Walking into the temple, sitting on a vague throne, was a figure that was just as vague, no facial features, an appearance that kept on shifting, the god of control was transparent at times but at least retained a faint grey coloration throughout his constant transformation.
He raised his randomly shaped head to look at his visitor and seemed lost for a second, much like forgetful old man, surprised but not knowing exactly why for a few moments.
"Michelle... Or should I say... Wrath?" he said slowly, it was miserable to see the state of the one that had once dominated the divinities had fallen to, the fact that he was still here was only due to the fact that he had never showed himself, even when at his peak, none other than his angels had seen him, even now, the deities feared him.
"What... Are you doing here? Do you... Want to come back?" he asked, oblivious to the fact that the only angel remaining was standing before him.
"I am here to kill you" she bluntly responded.
"Ah... Ahahahahah! When did you become a comedian Wrath? I am your creator and most powerful being in this world! The world's will is in my control! I am the architect of everything below and up here as well!" he wasn't fazed by the threat in the slighest, even when half dead and powerless, he still believed himself to be the apex of everything in existence.
"That is obviously false, you came after the world you old fool, the people below created you, not the opposite" she retorted with a deadpan expression, not finding any amusement in this.
"Blasphemy! Heresy! Untruth! Lies! Lies! Lies!" the god of control agitated himself.
"Angels! Get rid of this sinner!" he coughed out, but no one came.
"Heh, what a useless bunch..."
"It doesn't matter anyways, I'll smite you myself then! You are no angel, you are just a sin! A piece of trash that needs to be eliminated!" the time during which the god of control was a well spoken deity, that would only speak in small amounts and often in enigmatic ways was now far gone.
Wrath grabbed the blade on her back, sword of Edwind, the former Patience.
She rose it above her head slowly, her target couldn't do anything after all, his measly attempts at enacting divine punishment were failing, again and again.
Yet, he still deeply believed himself to be capable of it.
Why use the stocked power of a virtue to bring down the nameless god of control?
It was ironic and Wrath thought that it would be the best way.
All of the latent power in the sword was unleashed into a powerful wave of patience, eradicating with simplicity the weak deity.
The sword stopped glowing with its light blue for a moment, before slowly shifting to a dark red, it was now filling with the power of its new owner.