That was harder than it needed to be as he was reeling from the light-headedness from using that much strength, and something about that spear seemed to scream at him that it was something to be avoided at all costs.
What was that weapon?
...
"You liked that?" His thoughts were interrupted by the magician who was barely standing, but from the looks of it, he was in arguably better shape than the others who were sprawled all over the place, their injuries and lacked of mana finally conquering them. "That was just the thunder." The magician slowly raised the sword to his level, the glowing emitted from it getting brighter and seemingly warmer. "Get ready for the storm."
In that brief moment, the sword shone brightly, making Kokabiel blink on reflex. When he opened them, he saw to his shock three figures that were definitely not there before.
The one that stood on his right was a young man with platinum blonde hair, dressed in dark blue robes that had plates of armor attached to his forearms, chest and his legs. He held a spear in his right and wore a golden crown that was simple in design but nevertheless majestic.
The one on his left could be considered the man's fraternal twin, being a young girl with blonde hair that was tied into a tight bun, dressed in a blue dress with white frills and adorning armor that covered her chest, arms and feet. She held a golden sword that seemed to scream familiarity to him as she glared at him with emerald eyes.
But the one that got his attention was the figure that stood behind the boy. The figure was that of an old man that was dressed simply in a white robe that seemed to have a mind of its own as it fluttered in the area. Light obscured the head hiding the facial features, but as one of the Angels of old, Kokabiel would never mistake that light nor the warmth that radiated from the figure. And with a sudden clarity, he saw through the light and recognized the face.
"Father?"
And with that one word, memories came flooding back to him.
...
He was once a high-ranking angel that stood by his [Father's] side.
He was once a brother to the seraphs of old.
He was once a great warrior of Heaven.
He led his army to victories, taking down [Father's] foes by the thousands and always being able to come to him with a smile. Try as he might though, a part of him did not liked the idea of Michael being favored by [Father], and chosen to lead their brethren. Even more so when Michael was chosen over him to lead the battle against the original Lucifer. In his attempts to have one-up over Michael, his pride took over him and eventually led to his falling.
That did not sour his relations with [Father] though; disappointed he may have been, [Father] still tried to reach out to him at times to talk with him in his many attempts to maintain peace between the two sides. For his part, he was content; in his new role, he could at least help his [Father] with dealing with his enemies with less restraint. He would at least continue his job still.
Until that day came, when [Father] died in the Great War.
"WHY MICHAEL?! WHY!" A wounded and delirious Kokabiel nearly destroyed his vocal cords as an equally injured Azazel tried to drag him away from the battlefield. "You were supposed to protect him! You are supposed to be by his side, so why did you let him die?!"
His despair and anger got worsened when the news of a truce came to them after a few days from their final battle. To hear those words from Azazel felt like poison going through his veins, threatening to take him down on the spot he stood. All the blood they had shed, all the sacrifices they had made, all that he had done for his [Father], was to be rendered moot by this truce.
A truce made by those lowly devils, the cowardly Azazel, and lastly, the angel whom he despised with all his heart for even going to ignore [Father's] need for aid.
How was that fair?!
Try as he might, he could not undo their decisions, and much of his objections got overruled and to his outrage, many had dismissed him as some warmonger just wanting to spill more blood. In his madness and despair he was forced to temper his emotions and went about taking down stray devils while many of his old comrades became weary and slack.
In time, his despair would give way to unfathomable rage.
In time, his bloodlust would consume him from the inside out.
In time, his clothes would be soaked in the blood of the enemies he took down, and his wings would be stained to a black that many would flinch in fear at the sight.
In time, his visage became twisted to resemble the ugliness of those he felt were the monsters of heaven.
In time, he would forget why he even took up the sword in the first place.
In time, he had forgotten the face of [Father]…
…
What had he turned into?
...
"What… was that?" Kokabiel muttered as he blinked, only just realizing the presence of tears going down his face. How had he forgotten the reason for doing what he did? How could he let himself get controlled by dark emotions?
"You ready for this?" He turned to find the boy raising the golden sword to his side and gripped it tightly with both hands. In response the blade shone even brighter to the point it lit up the school yard and the surrounding area while the energy build up caused the ground to shake and the wrecked building to crumble. And to Kokabiel's eyes, he could see the two figures at his sides taking up similar positions, seemingly overlapping his body.
"EX…"
What had he been confused about all this time? What had he lost sight all these years? What had he been struggling while drowning in his emotions?
'Dear Father, what have I become?'
"CALIBUR!" The boy yelled before swinging down the sword like it was the hammer of judgement.
At that moment, 'Light' galloped.
At that moment, 'Light' roared.
The energy that came out of the sword's strike surged and accelerated into a torrent of holy energy that shot forth at Kokabiel and like a dragon rising to the heavens completely consumed his body together with the darkness of the night.
'Ah, what an odd feeling.'
Kokabiel thought as his clothes and wings caught on fire. He was burning yet it was a comforting warmth. He should feel angry at his defeat, yet he was oddly calm. It felt like a heavy burden was lifted from his shoulders.
'So I finally fall in battle huh? Well, guess there are worse ways to go.'
Through his good eye, he peered at the magician who had given him the fight of his lifetime. The boy was probably feeling conflicted at this, the taste of victory likely to be both sweet and bitter at the same time, someone who could relate to his fighting only to be left alone again, never knowing whether he would find another to give him the rush.
'Ah, that's right. He won, so he needs to be rewarded.'
Concentrating whatever remaining powers he had into a small ball, he let it fall gently through the beam, watching it go silently to the magician. It was a small matter, but for someone as proud as Kokabiel, the fact that someone was willing to face him head on with his fully power was worth his attention and respect.
'You won this fight, Shirou Emiya. Perhaps this small token can aid you in the future.' Kokabiel thought in his head as he closed his eyes, letting his body break apart silently. It was such an unusual thing having his body destroyed, yet he was fine with it.
'My Son…'
Kokabiel's eyes snapped open, wondering if he was suffering hallucinations at that moment. 'It couldn't be!'
And in that moment, as though it was a trick of the eye, a fair hand appeared in front of Kokabiel, while a voice called out to him, beckoning him to come back home. Weakly, Kokabiel reached out to the fair hand with more tears running down his face and an expression of disbelief and joy. As he grasped it, his black wings turned white, his dark clothes changed to a simple white hammock, and his visage transformed into one that could only be described as angelic.
...
A/N : The Story Needs More Power Stones ;)
PS : if we can reach 400 Stones by the end of the week, I will throw you an extra chapter
...
if you want to read ahead of the public release you can go to my p atreon :
p atreon.com/Aerle