How many years had it been since he'd last seen it?

The vision of what Heaven had once been.

The Great War was a war in which the Legions of the Underworld fought against the armies of Heaven. A war between the Legendary Red Tide, and the battalions led by the Seraphim, the Archangels.

Heaven in the time of the Great War was a United Kingdom. Angels lined the streets of the immortal landscape. Buildings of ivory and decorated laurels the very symbols of the pennant flags billowing atop the grand spires of the central citadel of the First Heaven; the image of a crown of thorns sitting upon a cross depicted on a banner hung at the apex.

The First Heaven was the front line of Heaven's defences, the first barrier the Demons of the Seventy-Two Pillars had to overcome to gain access to the greater Heavens, and it was impenetrable.

Winged sentinels patrolled the borders, explosive lances held at the ready as Metatron, the Voice of God beckoned forth the Lord's will; the divine choir of Angels stationed at the distant clouds that hovered within the citadel giving salute.

Twelve Wings.

The representation of the pinnacle of an Angel's power.

And the Seraphim that shouldered that power and stood at the front of Heavens Gate. Guardians and Protectors that had long since dwindled since the ancient times. And now, staring at the form of Kokabiel, Michael fell silent, unable to voice the questions and emotions he felt inside.

Then again, he didn't have to as a masked individual made his way to stand before him and Gabriel. The two immediately stiffened, the blood pumping through their veins accelerating along with their heartbeats.

This individual didn't stand out much in the crowd, and in fact had been largely overshadowed by the presence Kokabiel was exuding, but it didn't matter. As soon as this individual entered Michael and Gabriel's view, their breaths nearly left them.

It was a man entirely covered by a brown cloak, the mask over his face, featureless and plain like porcelain, and yet from within him swelled a presence that would daunt any Devil meticulous enough to scrutinize him.

For if they had, they would experience a fear not known since the time his great name was known by all.

Next to him, Michael felt the grip Gabriel had on him tighten before her hand began to tremble, the vibrations carrying up Michael's arm, yet neither of them spoke. They didn't have to to understand.

The two had given up a significant portion of their Divine Light to aid in their Lord's recovery, and precisely because of this, they could feel the difference.

If the Lord they had aided before only emanated a minor and familiar aura, then the one in front of them now was concealing an ocean's worth. The subtle fluctuations they could detect from him due to his proximity was unimaginable, yet at the same time, comforting.

For it was the energy that had always guided them.

The wind to their wings, and that which had raised them up since pubescents.

It was the power left behind in the Underworld and once again assimilated into one host.

The Light of God, the power of God.

"Father," Michael whispered lowly, head dipping.

Yet in the cacophony of noises caused by the subsequent attack by Kokabiel and his forces, the sound hardly travelled.

But Shirou heard it even still.

The resignation within it, and the guilt that followed for having been unable to maintain the Heaven of the past. Michael had tried too hard and had been working too hard. The system God had left behind was never meant for a single Archangel alone to be able to maintain. It was complex and meant for one able to be supplied by the unending strength of the Holy Faith.

A means by prayer.

Humans didn't pray solely to Michael, no; they prayed to their Lord and God.

It was the virtue of Faith, and the basis that God's system was set upon.

Michael in comparison had been using his own power to direct the workings of the system. It was evident enough based on the change of the colour of his wings. A pure gold compared to the ivory dove it had once been before being exposed and harmonized with the pure Faith of the masses.

How long had he suffered in silence?

Shirou himself didn't know, but God understood better than anyone, and the pain of this knowledge beckoned him forth. For what father could tolerate the suffering of their children?

He had been missing for too long. The burdens of the Father forcible handed down to become the burdens of the Son.

God would have it no longer. He was weakened before, but after assimilating his past strength, he was at a stage comparable to even the strongest of Archangels and more. There was no longer a need to conceal himself, and with a simple prompting, Shirou acceded.

The effect was unimaginable.

God's system was created by God. As such none knew it better than he.

One by one, translucent and ephemeral doves shot towards the sky with pinioned wings stretched forth. The gentle hum of a morning bell escaping their smooth beaks.

Even in the chaos caused by the clashing of Fallen against Fallen. Brother against brother, and sister against sister, the ascent of the doves froze all.

Kokabiel merely stared before growing solemn. He was an Angel of Heaven that had Fallen to lust and murderous intent. The battle was where his glory lay, and it was also the root of his sins even before he had Fallen. It was only recently that he had understood that the battle shouldn't have been between Devils and Angels, but the enemies lying in wait in the shadows. The other Pantheons.

It was a revelation that had always alluded him in his hate and animosity towards those he had always considered enemies, but his hate and animosity dissipated greatly with God's intervention.

The Doves of Heaven, the messengers and symbols of the Holy Spirit.

No Angel or Archangel could produce them.

As such, they were motifs of the past that were no longer in existence.

The figureheads of a bygone era.

And yet they appeared again amidst the fighting. They soared, weaving in and between the frozen Fallen Angels and flying towards the light that broke out from the sky.

"Raise your head," the voice that came from Shirou's mouth was no longer his own. "There's no need to repent for actions out of your own control."

It was calm, gentle, and patient, the voice Michael and Gabriel had not heard in an untold number of years.

Michael shuddered, lifting his head up and not saying anything else.

The man before him looked exactly the same as he had been before, except now the power he had been concealing was out in the open and only growing.

As if in accordance with that growing power, the translucency of the Doves in the sky hardened before they took actual form, and by then, no Fallen Angel could ignore it any longer.

The fighting stopped between the Fallen Angels, confusing the Devils of the Khaos Brigade who couldn't understand what was going on after Kokabiel's arrival. However, they didn't remain confused for long as their attention shifted back towards Sirzechs and Serafall, their main priorities.

It didn't matter to them what the Fallen Angels were doing so long as they could continue to manage the encirclement they had on Heaven and the Grigori's current leaders.

As such, no Devil paid attention to the shock that was apparent on all the Fallen Angels faces. Azazel was no different.

He stood deftly, mouth suddenly dry and Downfall Dragon Spear fading away into a magic circle. To be honest, it hadn't been that long since Azazel had made his visit to Shirou, and at that moment, he hadn't been entirely sure if the reports he had obtained through strenuous effort could be trusted or not. Yet now, the answer was obvious.

His mouth closed into a thin line, a somberness taking root from within him as he dared not approach from his current position. He had Fallen from Heaven long ago and had even once actively opposed the Father. Shameless as he generally was, he couldn't bring himself to act as if his past actions were worth nothing. But even still, rebellious child or not, there was no mistaking the elation in his eyes.

For all Fallen understood at that moment who the masked man before them was, and for many Fallen Angels, their desire to battle faltered.

Because before them was God.

To begin with, the majority of them who had joined the Khaos brigade had only done so because God was dead, and the Fallen Angels had the advantage. As such, why should they have had sought after Peace if they could have had won the war?

Yet before their eyes, it was evident that God wasn't dead. The Father wasn't dead.

Everything became clear.

The reason why Kokabiel had shifted allegiances and gained a newfound power.

The reason why Fallen fought other Fallen.

There was only one being that could sway a Fallen to repent, or hesitate to fight, and that being stood before them.

A light like none other steadily began to shine, illuminating the area in a majesty that forced the Fallen Angels to shield their eyes.

With his will, the world moved.

The intensity of the light increased before suddenly fading, leaving behind an unfathomable sensation.

With his might, the seas parted and plagues descended upon the land.

Elsewhere, Xenovia looked towards the sky, the Durandal traced by Shirou in her hands emitting a wave of heat that steadily became a torrent. Ever since she'd read the note Shirou had left behind for her, she hadn't shown much concern on her expression, but internally she was worried. How could she not be after not hearing a word from him in the past couple of days? As such, to see the light shining in the distance, her worries quickly faded away, a smile tugging on her lips. For she knew that the light and presence in the distance was him even without verification.

Yet for everyone else, it was a reminder.

The older Devils of the Khaos brigade stiffened, minds falling into disbelief before immediately shifting their attention away from Sirzechs and Serafall.

"This can't be," one of them muttered in alarm. "He was supposed to be dead."

"What are you talking about?" A younger Devil asked. "Does it even matter who comes to the aid of these leaders?"

Distinct and panicked murmurs swiftly began to fill the area, but those in the Khaos Brigade still didn't retreat.

God's expression narrowed. There had once been a time where his presence was able to force Demons and their legions to retreat let alone just Devils.

It was a sign.

In the present world, no one seemed to take Heaven in the same regard as it had once been before, and this was clearly why Michael had bowed his head upon God's return. The Heaven of the past had long since been forgotten along with the true might of the Underworld and its Seventy-Two Demons.

Only the Fallen Angels seemed to remember, for the majority of them had Fallen when God's name still held meaning in the war between powers. The Fallen glanced at each other, before coming to a single decision.

The encirclement around Michael and the others dispersed.

Kokabiel drifted towards the front, followed by Azazel after a single nod from God, giving him the greatest sense of relief.

They stood in a line behind God.

Kokabiel, Azazel, Michael, and Gabriel.

Behind them, an army of Fallen Angels.

The Devils on the opposite side still surrounding Sirzechs immediately grew weary, yet most of the younger generation still had the will to fight, glaring provokingly.

God simply stared, before sighing.

He could understand the actions that Michael had undergone to preserve Heaven in his absence. Certain measures that had once been taken as policy and law had been left forgotten; the innocent undeserving of punishment still persecuted anyway in regards to a greater picture. It was all done to conserve what was left behind, and he couldn't fault Michael for doing such a thing. Because if Michael hadn't, no one truly knew what would have had happened to Heaven.

Still, as a consequence, the image and reverie many had once had of Heaven gradually disappeared with time. God himself had never thought that there would be a day where young Devils even had the mind to oppose him in person. That was a position suited only for the strongest of Devilkind.

Heaven had conserved itself for too long.

It was no longer the time to preserve.

The world thought the Heavens to be weak. To have regressed from the stage of its past glory.

It was now that all would know that they were wrong.

"Michael," he called out softly his intentions clear.

"Yes."

Michael felt a swell in his heart, the very same feeling that emanated from within those that stood beside him. His wings shone with a pale white luster, the wings of his brothers and sisters following suit.

They were the Seraphim. The Protectors of God's Throne.

The duties they bore on their shoulders had never once been forgotten, only left buried through the centuries.

How long had it been?

The passion burning from within him ignited as the words of the Lord entered his ears.

"The time of perseverance is over, the honours of the past but a memory, yet one that will never fade."

Two arms spread open, the doves in the sky parting the clouds and revealing the banner atop a citadel, Winged-Sentinels descending in rays of light.

"Open the gates, and let the world see once more the splendor of the Kingdom in the Sky."

"Understood!" Michael stepped forward, the light exuding from his body soaring towards the clouds.

Gabriel was next, a sceptre forming in her hands as the robes she wore were discarded in favour of the gleaming armour she wore beneath. Lined with gold and flowing silk, her wings wrapped around it as she released a light that ran parallel to Michael's.

The very heavens parted, the elusive Kingdom of the Sky revealing the open gates of the First Heaven. The Angels began to descend, the effects of the Forbidden Balor View unable to affect them as the aura of the Seventh Heaven appeared and suppressed the Sacred Gear's power.

The Angels began to sing.

The Divine Choir, and the eternal hymn.

From one Heaven gradually appeared the rest. The Second, the Third, the Fourth.

They all began to appear one by one.

Even Uriel and Raphael of the Seraphim made their appearance, descending from the clouds in billowing robes of white and staring in muted shock at Michael and Gabriel.

For no Angel alone could summon the entirety of Heaven with a single call. That power and privilege belonged only to one. It was then that the two noticed the one standing before Michael and Gabriel their expressions growing reverent before they shouted in excitement.

"Rally, rally to the Lord!" The two shouted amidst the confusion of the Angels who were suddenly summoned from Heaven.

God hadn't remained idle in this time. He alone had created the system Heaven had set its basis upon, and at that moment, he fully drew upon it.

The symbol of the cross manifested in all its glory, the phantom image it had once been before at the time of the Holy Sword Excalibur incident, long since forgotten. Instead, there was a depth to it that spoke of its significance that the older Devils staring in horror knew all to well.

The Battle Standard of the One God.

As the Angels began to assimilate together with the Fallen, none of the Fallen felt any awkwardness. In fact, what they felt was a sense of belonging as God's aura wrapped around them and boosted their strength of light. Their wings shone ever brighter, the dark feathers suffused with light.

Azazel opened and closed his palms, mimicking the actions of many of the Fallen present as he swallowed. It had been more than a millennium since he had wielded this sort of light. That which was granted due to God's presence.

The only thought he had at the present moment was that it was a shame that Shemhazai and Baraqiel weren't present to experience the feeling.

On the other hand, as the Heavens fully descended, the Devils on the Khaos Brigade's side were rendered silent. Even those that had once been full of battle intent had turned meek.

They couldn't help it.

The sight before them was one that was simply too difficult to overcome with mere bravado and bravery. Remaining where they were any longer would only mean death. More so when a burst of the Power of Destruction instantly reduced a distracted Devil into nothing.

It wasn't just the Heaven's they were facing, but the newest Leaders of the Underworld, two of the new Four Great Satans.

With that thought in mind, many Devils in the Khaos Brigade began to retreat, their bat-like wings steadily propelling them away.

Yet one Devil in the Khaos Brigade was unsatisfied and began to laugh madly.

He was Alden Botis, a survivor from the Old Satan Faction during the time of the Underworld's Civil War. He had been a young leader at the time and was in charge of a small convoy delivering new hands to labour in the ore veins of an old mountain.

Reaching a hand towards his waist, he immediately withdrew from his pocket a crystal the size of his palm and the colour of amber. From within the crystal exuded an aura of divinity that was difficult not to notice by any of the other devils nearby.

"What is that?" One of them questioned.

Alden ignored it, staring intensely at the crystal.

The him of the Civil War of the Underworld was a youth filled with ambition and hopes. Obnoxious and filled with vigour. Someone who dreamed of a future where he could reign supreme and raise the prestige of his noble family, one of the Seventy-Two Pillars.

Yet now looking at his future self and what he had become, all he could do was laugh derisively. He had become the mere attendant of a woman with an inferiority complex and had been forced to undergo unscrupulous task after task, all in the hopes of fulfilling his revenge.

His eyed closed as the memory of a young women floated into his mind. The one Devil he wouldn't have minded dying for yet was taken away from him through some unforeseen means.

Launa, his fellow peer in the Underworld's Civil War.

In a heartbeat, he crushed the crystal in his hands, producing a suction force that ate away at his body as fuel.

"W-What are you doing?!" Another Devil asked in panic, the pull produced from the crushed crystal dragging her in.

"Something I should have had done since the beginning," Alden said calmly.

From the void created after the crystal's destruction, an ancient Divinity began to leak before steadily growing stronger, the implications of which were not lost on any Devil near Alden.

"Y-You're crazy!" A Devil cursed, backing away from Alden's immediate location. "This was a battle between our Factions, not a third party! This wasn't part of the plan!"

Alden grunted. "Of course not," he said coldly as the entirety of his body vanished. "This was insurance."

He didn't regret dying. After all, he knew deep down inside that he had already died at the end of the Underworld's Civil War. He had only been prolonging the inevitable.

As soon as Alden died, the pull from the crushed crystal ceased, an old man dressed in middle-eastern robes appearing from the void. From him emitted a fieriness that was reminiscent of a burning inferno followed by a divinity that encompassed the entirety of Kuoh that clashed against the aura the Heavens were releasing.

This man was named Utu, Sumerian God of the Sun. A God of light and wisdom of ancient Sumer.

His gaze spanned across the entirety of Kuoh before remaining steady on Shirou, aged eyes glaring.

It was something that was unprecedented. A feeling that had manifested itself all the way into ancient Sumer due to resonance. Earlier in the Holy Sword Excalibur incident, a Divine Construct had been formed, one that was entirely Sumerian based. A weapon of Sumerian mythology and named after a Sumerian Deity.

Ig-Alima, the Mountain Felling Sword.

It was a Holy Relic of ancient Sumer's power that had long since been lost. For it to be in the hands of another Pantheon or Religion, it was intolerable. More so when other Sumerian Gods felt oddly peculiar about the barrier surrounding the city of Marbas in the Devil's Underworld. From it, not only did it seem to give off an aura similar to Ig-Alima, but it also gave off an aura similar to Sul-Sagana, another Holy Relic of ancient Sumer.

Of course, this had always been speculation on the Sumerian Gods part, but it was all but confirmed when the aura of Ig-Alima itself had manifested in Kuoh. Thus, it was evident that the religion of Christianity was in possession of Sumerian based Divine Constructs.

Utu and the other Gods of Sumer were furious, yet Utu was never one to show his anger.

Instead, he would punish those that offended him.

Utu lifted a hand, and all the Devils from the Khaos Brigade were rendered still, unable to move before being blown away to crater into the ground. A majority of them passed out from the sheer impact while others were left to wallow in pain from their injuries, broken bones and minced flesh the least of their concerns as the fiery heat of the sun soon suffused the area. Even if these Devils weren't worth much in the grand scheme of things, they were still part of the Christian Religion. Killing them would only weaken the Religion's strength, and besides Utu didn't arrive for a polite conversation, but retribution.

He had been the one in charge of surveying Kuoh after Ig-Alima's presence was confirmed, and it was his insight that had seen the friction between the Devils. As such, he acted and manipulated a weaker-minded Devil to directly allow him entry through the natural defenses of the Christian Religion uninhibited.

The current situation was a result of that; the destruction of a divine vessel from Sumer enough to allow him to bypass any other trivialities set up by the Christian God's system and arrive firsthand.

Utu was a God of the Sun, one attributed with light. The heat he was generating with his divinity was scorching the earth black. Tar bubbled on the roads, putrid smelling and rancid, the substance forming depressions in the ground with the melting and collapse of lampposts and streetlights.

The Devils laid sprawled on the ground after Utu's attack were having it worse. Their skin began to flay, legions of red crawling up their bodies as wisps of smoke began to rise from their clothes. Some who were too injured to even move, couldn't even scream as they burned.

Sirzechs brows furrowed almost immediately, and even Serafall who had been acting distant since the start of the battle looked over. Enemies they were, but those of the Old Satan Faction were still Devils. The sight before them was going too far. Instead of simply killing them, this was a prolonged suffering.

Sirzechs would endure this no longer, yet someone else was even faster to action than he.

"Enough," a stern voice intervened, blocking out the heat focused on the Devils with a lighter aura that healed them.

It was the same property stored within the Sacred Gear Twilight Healing that didn't differentiate between race. It would heal all, all the same. With this intervention, the pained cries ceased.

Utu furrowed his brows. Angered as he was, he was still rather befuddled with the current situation. From what he knew, the God of the Christian Religion was dead and as such, even if Christianity was one of the top religions in the world, it could still be considered weak.

Yet somehow his divinity was being interfered with?

Utu shifted his attention towards the masked-man who had clearly spoken.

"And what Angel are you?" Utu spoke bitingly, not putting Shirou's presence in his sights.

After all, no matter how strong an Angel was, they weren't anything special when compared to the might of Gods, deities of worship.

Expectedly, Michael bristled at Utu's dismissal. He wasn't the only one, almost every single Angel who understood who Shirou represented reacted strongly.

Gabriel's expression darkened as the smile on her face faded away into a natural calm, the power of light in the sceptre in her hands intensifying.

Uriel and Raphael had already spread forth their wings in indignation.

As for Azazel and the Fallen, their murderous expressions were evident enough, more so when the Morningstar in Kokabiel's hand erupted in white flames.

Yet moments before Michael and the others would step forward, a hand stopped them.

Shirou stared ahead. Although God had been maintaining a large portion of control over him, he wasn't unaware of the situation around him. The state of the Devils left him furious. To begin with, he understood their reasons for fighting in the first place due to his presence in the dimension created by the Khaos Brigade. The Devils in the Khaos Brigade were from the Old Satan Faction, a faction that had already proven itself to be deferential to a legitimate ruling power. The only reason they were fighting was because they questioned Serafall and the others legitimacy to rule the Underworld.

As such, wouldn't hostilities cease as soon as a legitimate leader appeared?

He had done so in the past. Seen a united Underworld.

He couldn't tolerate this, and God already understood his intentions.

"What Angel am I, you ask?" God spoke, stepping forward.

His steps were accompanied by bursts of stellar light, the pressure exuding from him increasing exponentially as the might of divinity and faith enshrouded him.

Utu suddenly balked. He was a deity. As such, in another Religion like Christianity which was said to have had already lost their God, his strength should have had been at the apex. Of course, he might have some difficulties with the new leaders, but he didn't believe it would be to the point that it would be life-threatening.

Looking at the man approaching him, Utu subconsciously began to step back before realizing what he was doing and freezing.

Utterly shameful. How could he retreat in the face of some mere Angel?

A cold sweat suddenly burst from within him at that moment.

Angel? Was the man approaching truly just an Angel?

Utu stared blankly as the Heavens in the sky seemed to revolve around his opponent, the divinity surrounding Utu paling in comparison to that which was steadily being released.

God in the bible was worshipped as the One God. The power of faith flowing from the masses alone near insurmountable for any other God to compare. For Christianity was a Religion that spanned across the entirety of the world. In comparison, who in the present age could recount the names of any of the old Sumerian Gods?

Utu faltered in decisiveness, already convinced that who he was facing wasn't just an Angel. In fact, from the sheer divinity that quickly dwarfed Utu's own, only one man came to mind.

"Y-You," Utu stuttered out. "You are the Christian God?!"

Shirou didn't answer, there was no need to when his actions alone could prove his identity. For God was indeed with him.

From Utu's hands sprouted miniature suns which he then hurled forward, the two suns expanding until they encompassed the entirety of Kuoh. The heat they exuded was many times more potent than the earlier heat derived from Utu's aura. It was to the point where even Sirzechs stiffened for a moment in concern for Rias and the others who he knew were in Kuoh's premises.

And yet, with a single raise of a hand, the suns vanished.

"When God said 'let there be light,' then there was light." The words spoken were soft but deafening to Utu's ears. "So, if God says 'let there be dark,' then there can only be dark."

"I-Impossible," Utu finally began stumbling back. The power and divinity he had placed into conjuring those two suns wasn't small, and in fact had mainly been a test.

There was a reason why many Gods from other Pantheons and Religions had actively avoided conflict with the Christian Religion even during its Great War between Heaven and the Underworld. It was simply because even if Heaven and the Underworld were at War, there was no opportunity to be had. For that almighty figure of the Christian Faith had always been present.

The One God.

Unlike other Pantheons and Religions, there was only one God in Christianity, meaning that all the power of faith that a God's strength was supplemented with was supplied only to one. Take for example Utu, a Sumerian God. Even if he was a God, the amount of devote to him was split between the other Gods of Sumer. Therefore, his power base and distribution would always be smaller than what accounted for the entirety o-->>

next page