Chapter 10: Wanted — One Idiot with a God Inside
The sky was burning gold — which would've been pretty if it wasn't because someone (Aza) had detonated a divine therapy orb the size of a church.
"Okay, okay," Aza muttered, sprinting down a ruined boulevard, dodging falling debris. "So maybe blowing up heaven's mental health department wasn't my brightest move."
"Understatement," Sol said dryly in his head. "You've officially been listed as an Anomaly-Class Threat. Heaven's elite units are deploying."
"Elite units? Ohhh, maybe they'll autograph my mask."
"They're here to kill you."
"Yeah, people usually are."
Aza ducked behind a half-melted truck as a beam of light sliced the asphalt where he'd been standing. The explosion flung him forward, landing him face-first in the mud.
"Ugh, divine artillery smells like burning feathers and self-righteousness," he groaned.
A voice boomed from above. "ASS ASSIN! YOU STAND ACCUSED OF BLASPHEMY, PROPERTY DAMAGE, AND GENERAL ANNOYANCE!"
Aza looked up. Floating over the ruins were three angels in shining armor — their wings like molten glass, their swords humming with pure light. They radiated power, holiness… and zero sense of humor.
"Hey!" Aza called, waving. "You forgot tax evasion!"
They didn't laugh. Angels rarely did.
Sol muttered, "You could try diplomacy."
"Yeah, right. With people who glow like toothpaste commercials?"
Without hesitation, Aza pulled out his pistols and opened fire. The bullets didn't do much — they pinged harmlessly off divine shields — but the intent was there.
"Cease your resistance!" shouted the lead angel.
"Can't!" Aza yelled, reloading. "It's a medical condition!"
One angel dove at him, sword first. Aza sidestepped, grabbed the angel by the wrist, and used his momentum to slam him into a car. The impact cracked the windshield and sent feathers flying.
"Ow," the angel groaned, dazed.
"Sorry, divine bro! Car insurance doesn't cover angel crashes!"
A blast of light hit Aza square in the chest. He flew backward, crashed through a storefront, and landed on a rack of fake sunglasses. The glass shattered.
"Ow," Aza muttered, picking up a pair of shades. He put them on. "How do I look?"
"Like a moron," Sol said.
"Perfect."
He leapt back out onto the street — guns blazing, flipping over debris like he was auditioning for an action movie that definitely didn't have a safety budget. The angels surrounded him in a triangle formation.
"Yield, mortal," said the leader. "We have orders to bring you alive."
Aza tilted his head. "Alive? Oh, that's sweet. Usually people skip that part."
"By divine command, surrender now."
"Counter-offer: no."
The angel sighed — then extended his hand. The air warped, and a glowing sigil appeared beneath Aza's feet.
"Teleportation trap," Sol warned.
"I know," Aza said. "I just wanted to see what it does."
"You'll die if—"
"Yeah, but maybe I won't!"
He dropped a grenade.
The explosion shattered the sigil and launched him skyward in a cloud of smoke. Aza twisted mid-air, shot one angel's sword arm, and landed on another's back.
The angel screamed. Aza yelled, "YEE-HAW!"
He rode the poor celestial like a malfunctioning jetpack, crashing through three buildings before rolling to a stop in the rubble.
When the dust cleared, he stood, coughing. "Okay. Ten outta ten landing."
"You broke three ribs," Sol said.
"Yeah, but it looked awesome."
---
As the angels regrouped in the air, Sol's voice grew sharper. "They're deploying Seraph Protocol. I can feel the energy signature. You need to run, Aza. Now."
Aza looked up. The clouds above twisted — and something massive began descending.
A figure, towering, radiant, its wings stretching wider than the street. Six halos burned behind its head like suns.
"Introducing," Aza muttered, "Heaven's nuclear option."
Sol's tone dropped to a whisper. "That's a High Seraph. If it touches you, you'll be erased."
"Erased? Like... deleted deleted?"
"Permanently."
"Damn. Guess I'll finally stop getting subscription emails."
"Aza."
"Right, right." He cracked his neck. "Guess diplomacy time's over."
---
The High Seraph landed, the ground shaking with divine pressure. Everything around them warped — buildings levitating, streets cracking, light bending.
It spoke in a voice like thunder:
"MORTAL VESSEL OF SOL. SUBMIT YOURSELF OR BE UNMADE."
Aza grinned. "Can I get that in writing? I like keeping receipts."
The Seraph raised its hand. A spear of golden energy formed — aimed directly at him.
Sol's voice went from sarcastic to terrified. "AZA, MOVE!"
Aza rolled as the spear obliterated the ground behind him. The blast carved a crater the size of a football field.
"Okay," Aza said, panting, "so that's a no on negotiations."
"You think?"
Aza pulled a small vial from his belt — glowing faintly with divine blue liquid.
Sol froze. "Where did you get that?"
"From the therapy room. I might've… pocketed it."
"That's holy essence! You can't just—"
But Aza had already downed it.
The world went white. His veins lit up like lightning. The air screamed around him as Sol's voice echoed inside his mind, panicked:
"You idiot… you just drank a piece of Heaven!"
Aza exhaled, steam rising from his skin. His mask glowed faintly.
"Yeah," he said. "Tastes like redemption."
---
He charged.
The Seraph swung its spear — Aza ducked, slid under, fired up into its chest, and leapt onto its shoulder. The energy coursing through him burned like fire, but he grinned through it.
"Hey, big guy," he shouted. "Ever been suplexed by your worst mistake?"
He jammed an explosive rune onto the Seraph's armor and jumped off. The explosion rocked the sky — light and feathers everywhere.
The Seraph fell, smoking, its halos flickering.
Aza landed in the debris, panting, arms trembling from the divine backlash.
"Still alive?" Sol asked.
"Barely," Aza muttered. "But damn if I don't look cool doing it."
"Idiot."
"Love you too, buddy."
---
He looked up at the broken clouds. The city was in ruins, angels retreating, the air still glowing with divine radiation.
For a brief moment — the world was silent.
Then Aza chuckled softly. "You know, Sol… I think I just started a war."
Sol's voice went cold. "You didn't start it. You declared it."
Aza adjusted his cracked mask, sunlight gleaming off his red suit. "Good," he said, turning toward the distant horizon. "Because it's about time Heaven got a sense of humor."