Carrier.Black

Jesus woke up in a hospital bed. He felt a throbbing headache and a feeling of weakness throughout his body. He remembered nothing, only the face of a man. Where was he? A doctor entered the room. He had long black hair down to his waist, electric blue eyes, and was over two meters tall, yet no one paid him the slightest attention. Jesus looked at him and closed his eyes.

"I guess I should be happy to see an old acquaintance. But under these circumstances, the Angel of Death is the least I need, you know?

" "No one has ever been happy to see me. Thousands of years, and I've only heard kind words of welcome once. It turned out they mistook me for someone else. Such is fate. Jesus, I know you're the Son of God and the Savior of humanity, but even so, a speeding truck could kill you. Especially in the state you're currently in."

Jesus tried to move. A sharp pain shot through him, and a thousand thoughts swirled in his mind. The Son of God hadn't felt such intense physical pain in a long time. His head pounded every time he tried to concentrate on something.

"How long was I unconscious?" Jesus asked helplessly.

"Four days. The doctors gave you a few stitches, and you're still on painkillers." Uriel was furious that they'd even done such a thing. He'll come to patch you up tomorrow. Azrael smiled broadly, revealing sharp white teeth.

"And what are you so happy about?" Jesus whispered with difficulty. "Is my birthday early, or some other big occasion?"

"No, we still have September to celebrate. I have another message, straight from Gabriel. We've found the Carrier."

A small fire of hope lit up in Jesus' aching head. If the Carrier is indeed among people, it means that some part of the Lord, a small fragment of him, exists in this universe.

" "Where is he?" Jesus tried to prop himself up on his elbows, but it was no use, and he fell heavily onto the uncomfortable bed.

"He lives somewhere in Scotland. I'm going to pick him up right away, along with Telerach.

" "What about Luthiel?" Jesus's head was hurting more and more, and he felt like he was about to faint, but he still had to know the answer to this one question. Azrael was a little confused. Jesus knew Gabriel had probably forbidden him to speak of this matter.

"Azrael, tell me." Jesus' strength was failing. He was slowly sinking into darkness, but he had to know the answer. The Angel of Death took a deep breath. He hated breaking his word, but after all, the answer belonged to whoever but the Son of God himself. Azrael looked at the pale Jesus. He took a deep breath and began to speak.

"We know the army of shadow is forming in the first abyss. Our scouts are dead. The abyss has been subjugated to Satan. We have little time."

Jesus looked at the angel's despairing face. He saw the dire situation. The Bearer must be found immediately, at all costs.

"Azrael, we must act as quickly as possible." The Son of God whispered these words and slowly fell back onto his pillow. Sleep overtook Jesus, who subconsciously dreamed of never waking up again to this nightmare.

***

Azrael and Telerach rode their mounts and spoke not at all. They asked everywhere about Andrew Black, but no one knew his whereabouts. Using magic was not advisable, as it might attract some nasty demons, or worse, Luthiel's troop. It was necessary to avoid detection by the enemy at all costs.

"Where is this man? He should have given some sign of life, some signal. If so, we'll be looking for him all week!" Telerach didn't intend to hide his displeasure. After all, he couldn't be blamed, as traveling at night in the rain and frightening wind wasn't exactly pleasant. However, if the Host had truly awakened, then not all was lost. The Host's existence proved that God existed in some form. And He was still present. Azrael was slowly losing hope, and Telerach was losing patience. The storm intensified, and the rain fell harder and harder. In the next bar, no one knew the man named Black.

"Maybe it was a mistake? Maybe Uriel made a mistake?" Telerach didn't like the idea of ​​giving up at all, but they had traveled almost the entire island and hadn't found a single trace that would lead them to their destination.

"You know Uriel rarely makes mistakes. And in a case like this, there's hardly any room for error, right?

" "You're right." Telerach had to agree with the Angel of Death. "Maybe we should stop at that bar after all, because I'm freezing. Two hours won't save us.

" "Maybe I'm shaking."

The angels stopped their horses near the bar. After all, traveling this way was a bit outdated, and drawing attention to oneself even in the human world wasn't very safe in this situation.

"Agraf, Fanus, disappear." Azrael waved his hand, and the horses vanished into thin air. "They won't be much use anymore. Let's go, I feel water starting to get into my boots."

The bar was dingy and smelled of fish. Drunks were lying around, and the bartender looked only slightly better than the battered poor man sitting in the corner.

"Maybe try it? This is the last hole left in this area." A glimmer of hope lit up in Telerach's eyes.

"After all, we have nothing to lose except our lives and a few other little things."

Azrael walked over to the bar and leaned against the counter. The bartender struggled to his feet and looked with his bloodshot eyes into the Angel's eerily green ones.

"Hey, little piggy, tell me, do you know a man named Black?" Azrael bared his sharp teeth and smiled venomously. Normally, the bartender would probably be scared, but in his current state, even Satan ordering a Coke wouldn't make the slightest impression on him.

"Yeah, I know." The drunken bartender stammered uncertainly. He lives on the hill with his wife. She's as pretty as I know, oh yes, a hottie.

"A wife?" Telerach got up from the table and approached the stunned Azrael. "Little piggy, he has a wife?"

Telerach thought he would fall over. It couldn't have happened.

" "That very beautiful honey, a miracle." The bartender was clearly delighted by the vision that flashed before his eyes.

"Damn. What happened." Azrael's words were heavy.

"It's impossible, how could this have happened? This complicates everything threefold."

The angels left the bartender with a vision of Black's wife and sat in a corner of the bar. Telerach was drinking beer and Azrael was holding a bottle of whiskey.

"If the Host has a wife, it means he has no divinity, but he has power. The prophecies and all that other bullshit say that if Black receives any sacrament, he automatically loses God in his soul.

" "Fucking rules. It was a mistake. Admittedly, being the only human without the sacrament was his hallmark among billions, but I don't understand. Even unbelievers are consecrated before birth by the gift of birth. The Host was created directly by the Lord. People have the power to create new souls by mixing their own parts. It's God's greatest gift. He wanted to make people completely independent. Diversity was always his weakness. It's unbelievable.

" "We have to reverse the sacrament. Maybe then it will restore his faith. He's dangerous now. Manifestations of power can be spontaneous.

" "Don't tell me you want to steal his wife." I know it's called reversing the sacrament, but when he finds out, you'll probably see a spontaneous surge of power.

"Do you have another idea?" Gabriel told me to do what I deem necessary because he's out of ideas and Jesus lies unconscious. Azrael was determined, piercing Telerach with his gaze. "So how are we going?

" "Let's go."

Azrael and Telerach quickly left the bar. The rain continued to fall, and the wind was still blowing.

"It's not far, let's fly, no one will notice." Azrael stretched his white wings. Flying was much faster, and he didn't get wet or cold while flying. At least on Earth, so Telerach didn't even dare worry about demon patrols or the like. He hated being wet, and nothing made him so nervous. The journey took about a minute. The large house stood on a hill and was surrounded by trees. Lights were burning in the windows, and smoke was rising from the chimney. The angels landed in front of the door.

"Can you sense him?" I didn't. Telerach looked around and tried to sense any vibrations.

"Me neither. Maybe he's not home. There's only one way to find out."

Azrael knocked on the wooden door. For a moment, there was no sound, but after a long moment, a woman of average height opened the door. She was truly very pretty. Her facial features were Asian, her black eyes reflected the pearly moon, and her mouth was small, as if made for uttering endless verses. Her waist-length black hair glistened and made her entire figure extraordinary, reminiscent of the angels from the fifth heaven who inspired the greatest poets. That's how Azrael thought of the woman. Despite his "profession," he was very allergic to all beauty, unlike Telerach, whose thoughts revolved around rather unsophisticated definitions of beauty, like "nice girl" or "nice woman."

"I'm listening. How can I help you gentlemen?" Her voice was very firm, radiating strength. The angels were very surprised to hear such a tone.

"We're looking for a man named Black. Andrew Black." Do you know him? We're his friends from the army. We've been looking for him for weeks. Azrael couldn't stop staring into her incredibly black eyes.

"Yes, it's my husband. He didn't tell me his army buddies were coming.

" "We wanted to surprise him. We can come in, it's terribly foul." Telerach, as usual, was only thinking about getting warm. Besides, in this weather, you couldn't blame him. The woman hesitated but let them in. After all, she was only human, and the power of God's messengers always inspired trust, and people yielded to their requests. Azrael's voice echoed in Telerach's head.

"I can't take her. She's some kind of..." He couldn't finish. For the first time, he didn't know what to say in such a situation.

"Azrael, I hate telepathy. It makes me sick. It's not because she's some kind of thing. It's Black. He put a block on her for garbage, accidents, and so on. Unconsciously, probably. She can't die unless you come to him and tell him it's her time. It's a trick.

"That's why I can't gather my thoughts. She's..." Azrael didn't finish. He couldn't.

"I'll do it for you." Telerach felt no repulsion. He'd killed before. He'd killed demons, angels, traitors, spies with a smile on his face. But killing a woman. And a friend's wife, too? That was the last thing he wanted to do.

"Just please, hurry." Azrael was crying. Tears rolled down his cheeks and made silent holes in the floor. The sadness of an angel. No poet could express the sorrow that could consume the hearts of angels.

Telerach drew his dagger and whispered a few words. The blade lit up. He glanced at the back of the woman leading them to the room. He knew he would never forgive himself for this. He made a quick move toward Black's wife. She managed to turn around and see the angel's face frozen in sadness. Telerach plunged the blade into her stomach. The woman gasped. She couldn't say anything. His black eyes reflected the emptiness. She grabbed Telerach by the shoulders.

"It doesn't hurt. It won't last long. Calm down."

Telerach moved the blade toward his heart. The dagger left no wound. Where it touched his flesh, it glowed with blue light. Black's wife clutched Telerach's shoulders even tighter. She felt nothing, no pain. Yet a great sadness choked her, filling every inch of her body. She saw Azrael weeping as he watched the scene. She felt it would be soon. Just a moment. And darkness. The blue light brightened near his heart and then faded. The woman collapsed to the floor. The telerach was drenched in sweat and breathing heavily, as if he had been running for a long time. Azrael shook himself out of the strange sleep that had enveloped him for those few moments.

"She was protected by powerful spells. It wasn't easy. What was her name, Azrael?

" "Gemmei. Gemmei Black."

The woman lay on the floor. Her eyes were closed and she looked as if she were sleeping.

"Do something with the body, I can't bear to look at it." The telerach was paling and looked as if he were about to fall over.

Azrael approached the body and began whispering something very quickly.

***

Andrew Black sat in his office. He still had half an hour left to pore over papers that the masters of the Seventh Heaven would have a hard time making sense of. He was almost falling asleep; he didn't want to stay in this excessively clean office where his boss was constantly pacing and complaining about everything. But the moment the needle hit 20, Black was struck by incredible pain. Somewhere near his sternum. It felt like someone had pierced him through with a red-hot rod. He struggled to his feet and staggered to the bathroom. The pain intensified, drawing closer to his heart.

"What the hell? A heart attack?" Black was increasingly paralyzed by the pain. And suddenly, something struck him in the head with incredible force. A film of millions of frames flashed before his eyes at a terrifying pace. People, places, images. His head, like a sponge, absorbed it all. When the pain in his chest reached his heart, everything ended.

Black trembled, rose from the wet floor, and looked in the mirror. He was pale and seemed to have gone gray. He had no idea what had happened. His eyes stung terribly. He put his hands to them and rubbed them. They immediately stopped hurting, but only because they had leaked from their sockets. Black howled, fire bursting from his empty sockets, burning his eyelids to ash. Now, where his eyes had once been, were two empty holes shrouded in black, reflecting infinite pain, suffering, and hatred. Despite this, he could see, even better than before. Black couldn't believe what had happened, but the transformation continued. His hair began to grow, and by the time it reached the middle of his back, the ends were stained a dark red.

"This isn't happening..." Black's voice was hoarse, as if he hadn't used it in centuries.

His face had thinned and lengthened. The same was true for the rest of his body. Black was very thin, and his great height made him look like the Grim Reaper from a horror movie. His clothes had changed as well. Instead of a suit, Glow now wore a faded black shirt that reached down to his right knee, frayed at the hem and five sizes too big. Black jeans, torn and faded, clung to his legs, revealing an even thinner figure. Instead of elegant slippers, he wore high leather boots with chains attached. Black couldn't believe it. What had happened, huh? His memory hadn't settled yet. His mind was still in incredible disarray. He kept thinking of names. Rage began to fill him. Rage mixed with despair. Why?

"Gemmei!" Black screamed with all his might. Suddenly, the bathroom blurred, and he stood in front of his house. He could only see the outlines of the house and two bright figures in the living room. Unfortunately for these two, his memory fell into place like a puzzle.

"Azrael, Telerach," Black whispered, and a long, two-handed sword appeared in his hand. "I will kill you with true pleasure."

The angels sat in the living room. They waited for Black to return home so they could finally talk to him.

"Something's been taking a while. Do you think he's figured it out?" Telerach was restless and nervous.

"Probably not. To gain power, he must touch something divine. For example, a consecrated statue in a church. If he did, we would know instantly." Azrael glanced at his watch. "He should have—" Azrael didn't get to finish. The great two-handed sword shattered the wooden door and pinned the angel to the wall. Azrael choked on blood and tried with all his strength to somehow pull the blade from his stomach. Telerach jumped up from the couch, but he didn't have time to react. Black grabbed him by the neck and pressed him against the wall. The bony fingers seemed fragile, but in reality, they held immense strength, as Telerach was just realizing, feeling like Black was about to crush his larynx. Telerach looked at the Host's face. The blackness in his eye sockets was a thousand times worse than that grip, for it affected not only the neck but crushed and crushed his entire body, his entire soul. Black drew his dagger and pierced the Angel's shoulder. The pain in his shoulder was almost imperceptible now. The power of the abyss in Black's eyes was far more painful.

"You will die, Angel." Black rasped and threw the Telerach against the wall. Azrael hung a meter above the ground, impaled by his sword, slowly bleeding out.

"You won't die yet. That's not enough for me." Black smiled venomously at Azrael, whose image seemed to snap back into place. Black was keeping him alive. But for how long?

Meanwhile, the Host was walking toward the Telerach. A soldier from the Special Tahar-Dei Unit of the Seventh Heaven pulled a pistol from the inside pocket of his coat and fired seven shots at Black. Black continued toward him, holding seven silver bullets in his hand.

"The soldier wants to have a different kind of fun. It can be. We have time." The Host grabbed the Telerach and pinned it to the floor.

"One little ball wanted to go for a walk." Black continued smiling. He took one of the silver bullets and placed it on the soldier's chest.

"Don't be afraid, Telerach, it doesn't hurt." Black whispered, pressing the bullet into his flesh with his thumb. The Telerach howled in pain. Black pushed his finger deeper and deeper, pushing the projectile further and further.

"Another small bullet... and I forgot." He shouted in the Telerach's ear. The bearer stood up, took a swing, and threw the remaining six bullets at the angel. The bullets went straight through his chest.

"Now we'll hang the second trophy." Black played with the angels like a child with blocks. He did whatever he wanted with them. The Telerach couldn't move, he was paralyzed. Meanwhile, Black ripped a piece of beam from the ceiling. It wasn't difficult at all, because when he reached out, the beam broke and plunged vertically into the floor.

"Dear Telerach, hop." Black grabbed the angel by the neck again and threw it against the beam. The Telerach didn't even have a chance to scream. His back hit a broken beam and the angel saw the thick beam come out through his stomach, revealing all his insides.

"A pretty sight, isn't it? Oh, Telerach, don't be so worried. You belong to a very elite club. Not everyone gets to see their insides in all their glory. Don't worry, both of you, I won't let you die. You destroyed my world. You killed him without mercy, now I will destroy yours."

Azrael wept. He watched Telerach's torment and knew it was over and that he was the perpetrator. Suddenly, a piece of the mirror glowed in his pocket. Gabriel wanted to communicate. The Angel of Death didn't have the strength to silence the mirror. He knew Black was already waiting for the next ones. The mirror's power could be felt. And Black certainly knew how to do it.

"There will be more guests. How nice." Black smiled at Azrael, jabbing the knife under his knee.

***

Jesus jumped up from the hospital bed.

"It's impossible!" Sweat poured down his forehead and he trembled. He didn't know what to do; he was only human and had no power. He saw suffering and madness. The angels' cries were unbearable. Jesus' mind kept replaying the images he'd seen. Azrael covered in blood, and the Telerah dying in agony. And another thing, the specter, the one torturing them.

"What to do?"

The moment he tried to get out of bed, pain shot through his entire body, and he fell back onto the pillow.

"The mirror! Where is it?" Jesus groped. It had to be somewhere. The mirror lay on the table. Jesus shouted at the gray surface.

"Gabriel! Where are you?! No one appeared from the other side. "Where are you, Gabriel?

" "Here." Gabriel entered the room where Jesus lay, followed by Michael, Uriel, and Raphael.

"There was no point in answering. We arrived immediately. Did you sense anything?" Gabriel was a little nervous, but he held his ground better than Raphael, who was practically green with fear.

"Yes, I feel pain. It's something with Azrael and Telerah. Where are they now?"

Uriel stood next to Gabriel and looked at Jesus.

"They were looking for the Host. I told them where to find him. There must have been some complications. And their energy almost died. I feel a small spark. We have to find them immediately." Uriel spoke quickly. He was very impatient and if he could, he would probably have jumped out of his mind or had a heart attack. "I'll try to ease the pain; it should get you back on your feet for a while. "

Jesus smiled at Uriel, very grateful because he was sick of the bed, the IV, and all those tubes stuck in all sorts of inappropriate places. Uriel began casting some spells. This went on for a few moments.

"They're not amazing, but they're not too bad, are they?" Uriel rubbed his chin and looked at Jesus as if he were some recently completed experiment.

"Uriel, I can stand, and that's something. Now let's not waste time. Do you know where they are?" Jesus had no intention of wasting precious time that was slipping away so inexorably.

"From what I understand, they're in northern Scotland. I'll locate them more precisely once we get there. Michael, would you be so kind?" Uriel turned to the commander of the host.

"With pleasure." Michael replied and began to open the horizontal gate.

Within a minute, they found themselves in a wet, desolate area somewhere in Scotland. The wind was blowing mercilessly, and the rain fell on their faces with such force that it seemed to want to knock out anyone who dared to leave their home. Uriel knelt in the wet grass and began to pray. His words were constantly drowned out by thunderbolts and the furious wind. The location had exhausted the archangel, and Uriel looked as if he hadn't eaten in two days. His legs were trembling a bit, but he could stand on his own.

"Do you know where they are?" Gabriel reached Uriel and steadied him just in case.

"Yes," he whispered with difficulty. "Not far, about a kilometer to the north. There will be a fairly large house." And now, allow me to faint. Uriel's body slowly went limp. Gabriel whispered a few words, and Uriel disappeared. He placed him in a so-called hiding place. It was a gap in space, where you could leave anything there for as long as you wanted. The hiding places weren't subject to the laws of time. However, if you were a good magician, you could locate other people's hiding places very quickly. They couldn't be encrypted in any way, so opening them was child's play. Now, however, no magicians were expected in the area, and there was no need to worry about someone abducting or robbing the sleeping Archangel.

"Let's go. Their energy is fading. At least that's what I sensed." Raphael was growing increasingly worried, eager to find Azrael and Telerach as quickly as possible. Michael opened the gate again, and moments later they found themselves in front of a large house that looked like something out of a horror movie. It had broken windows, and here and there were massive holes in the walls. A kind of madness and despair emanated from it. Fear and death were palpable in the air.

"We're going in. Let's stick together, then we have a better chance of not being surprised." Michael knew the most about combat, so he was perfectly suited to the role of commander at this point. All four of them moved toward the battered door. The archangels drew their swords, and Jesus reached for Michael's revolver.

"But I don't keep a two-meter-long piece of steel under my pajamas in the hospital," Jesus said as Michael fixed him with a piercing gaze. It was no wonder; anyone in Michael's position would be nervous if they felt someone pulling a powerful revolver from your belt, moving silently behind you. If it weren't a friend playing a prank, the situation could have become very unpleasant for one of them.

They entered the corridor. Blood and scorch marks covered the walls. Moans could be heard in the distance. Everyone tried to see anything in the darkness.

"Greetings, gentlemen." A hoarse voice echoed from somewhere in the darkness. – Welcome to the living room.

Some incredible force pushed the archangels and Jesus into the illuminated room. They couldn't get up. It was as if they were paralyzed. They could only move their heads and look around, trying to spot their attacker. They saw no one, but a scene straight out of a macabre movie. Raphael was on the verge of a heart attack, and Gabriel gasped for air. All four of them froze, seeing what had happened to Azrael and Telerach. The Angel of Death was nailed to the wall with a sword and bleeding profusely. Someone had nailed his wings to the wall with rusty nails. Azrael looked like a corpse. His head was tilted to the side, and saliva mixed with blood dripped from his mouth. Telerach looked worse. He was impaled on a thick stake. His legs were broken at the knees, and someone had burned half of his wings; the smell of gasoline was everywhere. Telerach's eyes were open and he seemed to be looking at Jesus. But it was a hallucination. The angel could no longer see anything. He was alive, but the pain had shut down his other senses. Jesus wanted to move at all costs. He remembered the moment of the crucifixion, the pain, the suffering, the cruelty, the mockery, and those eyes full of pure hatred. The Son of God began to scream. With all the strength in his aching lungs. He could do nothing but scream.

"Who is screaming in my house? Who is interrupting the mourning?" The hoarse voice rang out again from nowhere.

Jesus whispered his name. He had no strength left. Uriel's spells were wearing off, and the earlier pain returned with a vengeance.

"Jesus..." the voice whispered. "I know that name... Jesus. Jesus!!!! Son of God, arise."

Jesus slowly rose from the floor. The pain was strangely subsiding, and his previously blurred vision was becoming clearer. A tall, thin figure emerged from the shadows. The ghost Jesus had dreamed of in the hospital.

"Who are you?" Jesus asked in the firm voice of a ghost.

"I am cursed forever by God." I was the message of his curse. Now I am only the song of a dead sigh. Dust and dirt that the Lord shakes from his boots daily. The hoarse voice trembled. The specter felt sadness. The aura of this being's grief and suffering grew ever greater.

"Are you the Bearer of the Word? Are you a human soul filled with a curse?" Jesus tried to stall, to somehow extricate everyone from this situation. Besides, a few answers would have been very helpful.

"I was," the specter replied.

"Father, what must I do? Help me. Please do not abandon me." Jesus felt helpless. He was an ordinary man. He stared at Azrael and didn't know what to do. What of the monster now standing before him? Once a warrior and friend, now a specter and merciless murderer.

"My Father, show me the way when I wander.

Open my eyes when I grope.

Show me the direction when I go wrong."

Whenever Jesus was afraid, he prayed these words. God always answered; now there was no point in waiting.

However, after a moment, the Father's words echoed in the Son of God's head.

"I told you to search, and fate has caused you to find a part of me. My son, I bless you. Go in my name and face the challenge I place once again on your shoulders. For when you triumph, we will celebrate together with all my children and with every created thing in the infinite kingdom."

The breath illuminated with full brilliance. Jesus stood in a white robe and gazed at the Bearer. His eyes were once again full of power. They shone with an incredible brilliance, absorbing the darkness around him.

"Come to me, my father's child, for it is time to bless what the Lord has created." Jesus spoke to the Phantom and extended his right hand toward it. The Phantom began to weep. If it can be called weeping. From his eye sockets, reflecting the infinite universe, tears escaped, black as pitch, and as they fell to the ground, they ignited.

"The whole world I had vanished." This one is worthless anymore. The carrier fell to his knees. "Where are you, where have you gone?

" "The sacrament was forbidden to you, carrier, and you broke the ban. God is not a tyrant, and you never thought so. Now darkness lies before your eyes. Reach out and I will show you the way."

The ghost took Jesus' hand. The room lit up, and they all found themselves in a pristine white chamber. Azrael was kneeling. Small scars remained from his wounds, just like Telerah's. Both had ceased to feel the pain; now peace enveloped them.

"It's over." They thought almost simultaneously.

Azrael looked ahead. A very strange scene flashed before his eyes. Michael, Raphael, Uriel, and Gabriel stood beside him and Telerah. Jesus held the kneeling ghost's hand and spoke to him, but the words did not reach the Angel of Death's ears.

"To err is common. Forgiveness is the consent of the pure." You are forgiven, my Carrier. Jesus smiled at the weeping Black. "Innocent souls are the guides of those they love. Such is God's will." Jesus knelt beside Black and whispered in his ear. "May your light sustain you whenever you are in need.

" "I am now, my Lord." Black's voice broke. His thoughts raced at breakneck speed. He didn't know what to do, feeling an incredible emptiness and helplessness. He didn't know which path to take, what was right and what was wrong.

"Don't worry about anything, everything will be alright." Gemmei Black suddenly appeared beside her husband. She was dressed in a light robe and smiled at Jesus. She gently embraced the Carrier. "Don't worry, follow the path you are destined to follow, and we will take care of the rest together." Her smile soothed all Black's thoughts. She was beautiful. Her black eyes held the fire of hope, bringing peace and relief. Black slowly stood up and continued to stare at his wife.

Gemmei played with his hair.

"I like you with long hair."

Black laughed, calming down completely. He finally remembered who he was and why he even existed.

Gemmei vanished. Black looked back. His wife approached Telerach.

"You could have told me, soldier. But I don't blame you."

Telerach stared into her beautiful eyes and remembered how she died in his arms. He couldn't throw it away, erase it. It was impossible .

"Please don't torment yourself with this. Do your thing, Telerach, we'll settle accounts someday." Gemmei smiled at Telerach once more, and everything vanished into the mist. Everyone returned to the devastated house. Azrael and Telerach knelt on the floor, the four archangels stood beside them, and Jesus and Black fainted. Gabriel looked at Uriel.

"Don't even ask." Michael spoke. "We're getting out of here.