Imperium | Chapter 2 - The Embrace

Kokabiel, the Angel of the Stars, and the commander of the fourth phalanx.

With just one thought from him, the world would burn.

A pair of pointed ears adorned his seemingly ageless face. A midnight black cape loosely draped over his figure; with a matching golden mantle lightly fluttering along with the movement of his wings.

Twelve wings.

The symbol of a seraph.

And a fallen one at that.

Shirou felt a faint shiver travel down his spine as he stared into the Kokabiel's ruby-like eyes. He could feel pure cruelty behind those pairs of stonelike eyes.

"The daughter of Baraqiel," emotionlessly started the fallen, "deliver her to my hands and I shall grant you the gift of quick death."

Kokabiel indeed was not referring to the boy, Hyoudou Issei. For a daughter was explicitly mentioned. The fallen he had triumphed over was already established as an ally, so it couldn't be her. Thus, by the process of elimination… he turned to face her, tens of meters away. Akeno.

Baraqiel, another Vice Governor General of the Grigori, was a thorn that had been by his side too much. At the end of the Great War, along with Azazel and Shemhazai, he had suppressed and reduced Kokabiel to a state of truce. Even though the heaven faction had lost God, while the Devils had lost their Satans.

A few years ago, a man by the name of Suou Himejima had appeared at his doorstep; informing him of great news. Baraqiel had a daughter, a weak and fragile half-human daughter. The man the proceeded to hand over the location of the mother and daughter pair with a predatory smile. Kokabiel knew that this was the opportunity gifted to him by fate to seize revenge, and seized it he did. He dispatched his angels, the elites of the fourth phalanx to deal with the wife and spawn of Baraqiel.

They had arrived and brought carnage to their home. Defiling Baraqiel's wife to the highest extent before burning the two alive. And that was the end of it.

Until he found her in Kuoh, alive and well under the membrane of the Gremory Princess. He once again saw it as a perfect opportunity. For the daughter of Baraqiel to die on devil territory would make quite an impact in the politics of the three factions. But for the sister to the current satan to die at the same time? Unrestrained anarchy would commense.

He had never expected for a perfectly unremarkable human to interfere with his plans.

Shirou stared hard.

"No."

He would not fail another. Not when he had failed so many before.

A grin was slowly curved its way up the fallen's face as he was met with silence. Double pointed lances of light began to form in his hand.

"Then be enlightened by true power."

The spears he conjured in his hands was lances of pure light power, and he indiscriminately hurled them around Shirou. They detonated on landing, and with flashes of angry light, created craters in the earth, further annihilating the already broken pavement and cement.

A lance of power, hundred times larger than the previous ones instantly appeared in the fallen's hands. It made a beeline for Shirou. His hands let go of Kanshou and Bakuya, the married swords faded away into particles of prana. And the world around him exploded in a corona of expanding light.

The searing fevor expatitated, and then shattered in a flash of white heat. The sheer power behind it blew the park with concussive force. A dazzling white flame wreathed his surroundings with fire, yet strangely, they would not touch him. Strangely indeed, they did not dare touch anything.

Twelve matching feathery wings of pure light extended into the air, as the lifted above ironclad shoulders like the dawn of sunrise. Slowly, he rose. A face encased in a visor of silver stared unblinkingly at its surroundings, and the white flames that had been roaring at through the air abruptly flickered out. Gone from existence with a single disapproving look.

The control of holy fire, a symbol of a high angel, one that had trescended the mere realms of angelicism.

But who dared?

His visor flipped as the dust was swept away with a single powerful flap of his powerful wings.

"Kokabiel."

"I was once a man of the Antediluvians."

"No…" the Fallen Angel found he could no longer hold his composure as his arms dropped to his sides. "T-that's impossible!" He began to recall memories, times of the fifth heaven, and the times of war.

"But a man I was no more, for I walked with God in the days of Genesis."

"It cannot be… you fell that day… with him." screamed Kokabiel, visage twisted with anger and despair.

His wings became alight with flames, the righteous flames of the lord.

"I was the light of humanity, fallen during war."

A symbol, reminiscent of an incomplete bird began to form.

"The second coming is here, for I have been reborn from the fires of redemption."

"You are a fake!" screeched Kokabiel as a daemonic laugh rippled the space.

Shirou tilted his hand downwards. A slight nod.

"Once again from a man of destiny, I have emerged."
Radiant pinions of light extended out.

"For I am Metatron, The Final Archangel of God."

Maniacal laughter. Utterly demented laughter was let out from the throat of the fallen.

"I see," six pairs of crow-like wings stretched to their fullest in response. Their owner glared down at Shirou, face twisted into an ugly mask of hatred.

"So father chose a human?" Kokabiel bared his fangs. "Over the vanguard that had served him for eons? The fallen legion of Heaven?" Betrayal filled his voice, images of the golden age of heaven flooded his brain with emotion.

"Chosen over by mere humans, what mockery." Sneered the Star, "we waited for our salvation, craving the love and light of our father again."

"And you took that from us."

Kokabiel's crimson eyes bled as he gazed straight into the bright eyes of Metatron no— Shirou. His gaze than darted towards the dark clouds of heaven. Hands extended.

"The world will burn."

Reaching a hand towards his waist, he withdrew from his satchel a crystalline snake the size of his palm and the color of purple. From within the crystal exuded a primordial aeon, not unlike the abyss.

Eras ago, he had led the angels to battle. Once holy then fallen. During the Great War, the fourth phalanx was at his command. His name brought fear to the hearts of enemies, his authority would mobilize hundreds of thousands of his fallen brethren, and his presence alone turned skirmishes into one-sided massacres.

The fires ignited in his eyes grew brighter as the memories of warmongering floated into his mind. The golden age of fallen expansion.

Yet now looking at what the fallen race and himself had become, all he could do was laugh derisively. He had been confined by peace, grown weak from neutrality. The fallen angels were in decline, and where was he? Put to work and forced to undergo what was to him disgracefully unscrupulous tasks.

In a heartbeat, he swallowed the snake, producing an abyssal force that seemed beyond the scope of time and space.

He didn't regret it. After all, he knew deep down that him alone was not enough to revitalize the great war, he could only rely on the power of infinity.

Rias Gremory was for all intents and purposes, distressed.

Her plans perfectly fell into place. Hyoudou Issei, a member of the perverted trio, was suspected to be in possession of a powerful sacred gear. Not many sacred gears would emit a robust draconic aura, as each would have had to have a previously alive dragon sealed into it. Yet, Hyoudou Issei reeked utterly of dragons; an indicator of a powerful one. Ever since her being alerted to the presence of Fallen Angel activity in her area, she had no doubt in her mind that Issei was going to die if given the chance. But that said, it would give her an opening. An opening to allow her the perfect opportunity to add another member to her shorthanded peerage.

She had made her plans, scrambling the second she received news that the fallen had made their move. She reminded herself that the deceased could not be reincarnated; only those in limbo, ones that sat on the fine edge of life and death could.

She had made the park in record time. Her preparations had been swift, and she had arrived at the site of the park. Battle-ready and preparing for the worst of situations. What she saw would perhaps make a normal human scream from fright.

Under the illumination of the full moon, a wholly destroyed park was brought into view. The half-standing piping was the only remains of what once was a fountain. Broken shards of stone, splintered pieces of wood, scattered pieces of tiles, eviscerated wings, all were abundant at the scene Then among the battlefield, she saw him.

Hyoudou Issei.

His body slumped over the ground, hand still over the gaping hole in his chest; made by the spear of his first girlfriend. Without a shadow of a doubt, he was dead; with such a fatal wound, nothing outside reincarnation would do much here.

As she stared at his pitiful posture, she realized how self-centered she was. Her own selfishness had brought a boy to his knees in pain; that was, however, the crux of being a devil, the fulfillment of her own desires. She needed a strong peerage, one with enough power to save her from the cruel talons of a phoenix.

Then she saw her.

Why her?

Rias had entered Kuoh Academy two years ago with her long-term friend Sona. Her ever slight introversion was perhaps a byproduct of her upbringing, one that caused others to view her as a trophy to be. The heir of the Gremory clan, pushed onto her after her brother became Lucifer, was perhaps her greatest asset and greatest hate.

She revived the old Occult Research Club to become the future base of operations for her peerage. Even going as far as to secure the old school building for added privacy, that was until Akeno Himejima decided she would join the club. A person that saw her not as the heir of Gremory, nor as a devil, but as a simple girl named Rias. No matter the occasion, her entirety was ordinary in front of her. She decided from that day forward to hide the supernatural world from Akeno. Not only to protect her, but also to indulge in her selfish desire— of being seen as normal.

Akeno Himejima laid in her own haema, her locks splayed over the forehead. A pool of blood more crimson than even her own hair was littered with bits of cauterized flesh. Her hands were clenched tight over the fist-sized hole in her stomach; faint trails of smoke still emitted from the grisly wound. Her eyes were half-lidded, and a grim expression of pain seemingly permanently etched onto her face. She was not dead, no far from it, still alive.

Then was until she saw Kokabiel.

A face she would recognize anywhere. One of the forces her brother had sincerely and continuously warned her to be wary of. Not just due to his power, no. But instead due to his warmonger nature.

Rias knew at that moment. Her plans had become many times more complicated. She clenched her fist and took out a chess piece. It was ruby, gleaming in the light of the flickering moonlight. It donned light armor, and its face was obscured by the visor of its helmet. A raised flag was inscribed was an upside down triangle, adorned with tight curves and a roman numeral five. The Seal of Satan, the symbol of the devil faction.

She was still adjusting her plans to fit her needs when she felt her skin burn. A resounding inner instinct told her to run. To run away as far as possible. For there was a bane to her race present here, a being of tremendous power.

Metatron.

An archangel she only knew of from the history books. Metatron was not a name, but rather the title referring to God's chosen, Enoch. The high chancellor of heaven was said to be the most brutal opposition the devils had face during the great war. For he embodied not only the powers of heaven but also the powers of the earth.

Regret.

In the face of a colossal battle, Rias Gremory was scared for her life. She clutched the gleaming chess piece she had previously selfishly hoped to use. In the winds of power, she sat adrift on the massive power generated by the two entities at battle. The regrets flashed by. One by one they appeared in front of her in perfect clarity.

She stared at the hole in the boy, lying in a puddle of his own blood.

She stared at the hole in the now unconscious girl, a friend of hers she had hoped would never see the twilight world.

She stared hard as her teeth ground together. It was her opportunity, and she could endure no longer. A boy with limitless potential and a girl of innocence were within her reach to save. She would have it no other way.

Her wobbling legs somehow cohesively began to function. Her nails dug further into her palms with enough pressure to draw blood. Each step was accompanied by a stab of fear and hesitation, the force exuding from the two were one another level, one even on par of what little she had seen of her brother.

She reached him first. Blood still warm. Absently, her shaking hand reached out and brushed away a sweat stain strand of her crimson locks. For a moment she reflected again on what she had done to the boy. Becoming a gear in the devil's war machine.

She gently placed the crimson queen on top of Issei's chest. It's shine under the white wings of Metatron distinguishing it from the blood still flowing from the open wound.

"I am Rias Gremory, first heir to the house of Gremory and future Duke of hell."

Her bloodstained hands, hovered over the chess piece, its glow no longer luminescent of in reflection of light, but rather devilish power.

"I command thee, Hyoudou Issei…" she grimaced, the holy power emitted from the two combatants weren't helping with the ritual at all, "...become my queen, and walk these lands as the servant of a devil!"

The glowing chess piece slowly sank into the crevices of Issei's body. As the queen disappeared into him, the glow went with it, leaving the world. Rias watched as the boy went from being dead to alive and well, save for the wound still puncturing through his chest. He would be stable for now, the injury would have to be treated later.

Her body swiveled as both her head and attention turned to the other body laying on the ground.

Akeno.

From Kokabiel's hand sprouted two lances; javelins of purple light which he hurled forward, the two spears expanding until they resembled amethyst comets. The power they exuded was many times more potent, more concentrated than what he had put out minutes ago. It was to the point where infinity had melded chaotically with the power of light.

Shirou was tempted to fight fire with fire, to attempt to overpower the ridiculous lances thrown by the fallen angel. He, however, had to consider his vicinity, most importantly Akeno.

Her injured state dictated how long he could let this battle drag out while simultaneously defining the way he would fight his battle; defensively. With her physical state, forget the resulting shockwave from a clash of such proportions, just a fragment of such power would end her life.

"Trace on."

Judging the concept of creation.

A conceptual construct.

Hypothesizing the basic structure.

A seven petaled flower, each representing a layer of oxhide.

Duplicating the composition material.

Consolida ajacis, the blood of Ajax the Great.

Imitating the skill of its making.

The last light of a legend.

Sympathizing with the experience of its growth.

Null, for it is to be the crystallization of a concept.

Reproducing the accumulated years.

An ageless phantasm to meet the power of infinity.

Excelling every manufacturing process.

"Rho Aias!"

A seven layered bounded field; each petal with the defensive power of a fortress wall. Initially it was the oxhide shield used by Greek hero, Ajax the Great in the Trojan; the only thing capable of stopping Durindana, the Unbroken Javelin of Hector, hero of Troy. Its existence was eventually sublimated into a simple concept: defense against projectiles.

Seven fuschia colored rings layered on top of each other materialized into reality. The two spears of infinity clashed with the conceptual armament of absolute defense in a whirl of sparks. The centripetal force created a seemingly endless vortex.

Crack.

Shirou's eyebrows furrowed.

Crack.

His wings tensed as he prepared for the worst.

Crack. Crack.

The two javelins stopped spinning but were very much still pushing against the walls.

Crack.

Five layers of the Rho Aias were broken by through by pure power before disintegrating. The concept of infinity was indeed a frightening power. Just a small catalyst of it was able to give such an exponential increase in the strength of Kokabiel.

Use me.

A weapon of righteousness he had only seen upon peering into the memories of his once beloved.

The victory he had received.

"I had asked you for your name, no?" Shirou called out, a small smile adorning his lips. He flourished his hand and moved his lips. "It seems that I have not introduced myself."

"I am the bone of my sword!"

Veins bulging and mind racing, his amber eyes narrowed as he envisioned his construct. A dazzling sword with a strip of pure gold that ran down its blade became to take shape. The golden guard clad in rubies formed along with the majestic royal blue handle.

Whoso pulleth out this sword of this stone is rightwise king of all England.

After the fall of the Roman Empire, and during the invasions of the Anglo-Saxons, Britain experienced what would be known today as the Dark Ages. There, however, the seed of Christianity planted by the Romans during the first century came to full bloom. When had first started out, it was little more than a cult. God provided his solution through Arthur Pendragon, a perfect member of mankind— worthy of drawing the sword in the stone.

An instance of weightlessness washed over him. A state of tranquility entered him. A sensation of power was emanating from within, seeking a way out, begging for release.

And deep within his conscience, it came.

The sword in the stone. Sing for the legend of the most perfect knight.

"Cali-"

It was the first sword of King Arthur, the King of Camelot, and ruler of England. A symbol of authority during a time of the United Isles. It wasn't a sword Shirou had seen in his lifetime, but instead, one he had seen in the remembrance of his servant, Saber.

"-burn!"

Caliburn: Sword of the Assured Victory.

As soon as he spoke out the Noble Phantasm's name, Kokabiel's previously vicious expression, shifted into one of palpable shock. It was a conundrum. For all intents and purposes, Caliburn had long been broken and lost in battle. It was just impossible to be in possession of the priceless artifact.

Shirou's cry echoed out within the forestry. Holy and magical power exploded around Shirou in a magical storm. With the true name of the Noble Phantasm released, a brilliant firepower at scales comparable to the power of infinity was unleashed. His wings were pushed back, the immense force created by beam pushed him back. A shockwave resounded as the blast of Caliburn pierced through the heavens and illuminated the dark clouds of the night.

To Saber, Caliburn was perhaps even more significant than her holy sword Excalibur, for it was equal parts the symbol of her reign and her greatest shame. While she may have felt regret as a result of her unsuccessful rule, she could not fault the sword for choosing her. It signified something "more than human."

Caliburn was the proof of Arthur's divine right to rule, enabling him to band together with a group of like-minded knights to his court, the most prestigious Round Table. It allowed for him to unite the ideals of chivalry, honor, and virtue into beacons of Christendom, bolstering its position into the sole faith of the land.

Yet there it was, its aura unmistakeable; the same sword he remembered from the olden times. For Kokabiel, it was a reminder. He recalled his face, the look of love on his face, the look of brilliance when he battled, the features that made him him.

Kokabiel had reacted too late. His shell-shocked reaction had locked him in his disadvantaged position for much too long. And had paid the price. Everything from his torso down had been outright obliterated, disappeared. No blood was even present to mark the incident.

All that remained of him was a severely disfigured body and shocked face. Hundreds of years ago, no one would have believed it if it were to be said that the morning star of god would face such defeat.

"That sword…shouldn't be able to exist." gritted out what remained of the fallen angel.

"It never truly broke," began Kokabiel. "How could it? The holy king sword forged by the one true God, shattered by mere mortal metal? No. It was only a sign that Arthur had fallen out of favor with the Lord."

Since times immemorial, as a warrior gained fame, so too would the weapons and armaments they wielded. Indeed, more often than not, bards would attribute the prowess of the hero in battle to the might of their blade. As a broken sword forged and chosen by the heavenly father to anoint the rightful king, Caliburn became less of a symbol of Arthur's labors, but of Christianity itself.

"Caliburn was not a physical construct of man nor fairy, but a spiritual construct of God himself, he had created it to be the symbol of a perfect ruler."

His fist clenched, "only the father would be able to produce the sword of utopia."

"Who are you truly? How can you?" Kokabiel begged, accepting defeat.

"Who am I?" The voice that came out of Shirou's mouth was different. Deep, gentle, soothing, and powerful.

A voice that tied the final knots forming in Kokabiel's heart.

A voice he he would never forget.

"Kokabiel, the Morning Star of the Kingdom of the Sky, have you truly forgotten me?" A soft melancholic light shrouded Shirou in a fine mist. The previously half-formed bird came again into view, this time manifesting in front of the image of a Holy Cross as a dove.

With his word, the birds sang.

The flutter of wings.

The divine chorus.

The third branch of Yahweh.

Ruach Hakodesh, Holy Spirit of the Triune God.

The Hypostasis of Christianity.

"The father of all creation…" Kokabiel for the first time in what he could remember was purely content. For he had fulfilled his purpose; to die in glorious battle. With teary eyes he stared into the eyes of Shirou. "...a fitting end for a sinner like me."

Rias peered down over Akeno. She suddenly found herself hesitating. Her mind running her through the possibilities of the future. It would never be the same again if he turned her into a devil, but without turning her, she would lose her forever. What a quandary of Catch-22 indeed.

She snapped her fingers, and a brief flash of light appeared in her hands. When the light died down it was to reveal an object in her hand.

Right. There was only one thing she could do.

A standard chess piece. The pawn. With this, Rias would be able to save her friend, at the expense of the power of her own peerage, and her regularity. She gently bent down by Akeno and dusted off the debris covering her chest, and lean forward. "Please don't hate me."

Yet, nothing seemed to happen as she placed the pawn on her chest.

Coughing, she tried adding another pawn. When that didn't work, she tried her Bishop. Again nothing. Swearing, Rias added another two pawns onto her chest.

Akeno could only moan as she saw specks of dark red light burst into life on her chest, and could just watch in muted silence as the chess pieces began to burrow itself into her chest. The dark light slowly began to seep its way into her body.

But suddenly, she felt the energy inside her vanish. And the dark red light was forced out. A warmer light seemed to make its way to every nook and cranny inside of her body. The hole in her chest began to close slowly.

"A sacred gear?" cried Rias.

Was it perhaps a holy type sacred gear, only activating with an outside influence? Upon further inspection, she saw a holographical construct, one seemingly made out of a myriad of colors steadily began to close the hole in her chest. The strain seen on Akeno's face slowly started to lessen.

The four half sunken pawn piece was suddenly propelled out with great force. Landing a perhaps a meter away. Most surprisingly, were the neat cracks that ran down the smooth surface of each marble. The faint crimson glow, characteristic of an evil piece, was nowhere to be seen.

A resounding footstep.

"Child of the devil. What do you think you are doing?"

Fear gripped the heart of Rias. Shakingly, she turned around to face what she would describe in the future as one of the most indelible moments of her life. What seemed like an archangel of vengeance slowly stalked towards her. It wasn't just wings behind him that struck devastation into her heart, but rather what he had in his bearing. A gleaming longsword that sent cold shivers down her spine was held tightly in his hand.

Rias pursed her lips and dropped her arms to the side before glancing at the ground.

"I am Rias Gremory, sister to Sirzechs Lucifer—" gritted out Rias, before she was interrupted by the powerfully cold voice.

"—I asked for what you were doing to her."

A crack of thunder blasted in the distance, further juxtaposing the flaming white pinons to the dimness of the night. The unforgiving coldness of the situation struck her. Tears welled up into her eyes, it seemed the name Sirzechs Lucifer didn't even register into the senses of the mysterious Seraph.

"I was turning her into a devil, as a servant of mine."

Looking into the cold orbs of her opposition, she found a desperate sense of defiance swelling up inside of her.

"She was dying!" she screamed, tears flowing out of her eyes, "How could I let someone so dear to me, someone so precious to me, someone who realized who I just died like that?"

Perhaps in another universe, he would be thanking her. However, years earlier, he had implemented Avalon into Akeno. A mark of his love towards her, for his willingness to give up his only piece of Saber. Could the devilish weak power compete with the brilliance of a holy fae weapon? Of course it could not. For Avalon represented the Everdistant Utopia, one of the highest of Noble Phantasms. Even as a shell of its former self, it was enough to heal its user from catastrophic injuries.

Shirou dropped Caliburn and with a wave of his hand, willed it into nothingness. It seems the devil wasn't as malicious as Shirou had thought her to be. It was a forced ritual in order to save her. To save. Words that resonated with him. With a begone ideal others had once called foolish.

He took a single sonorous step forward.

She took a step back.

A single step forward.

A single step back.

The emotionless orbs of Shirou softened. The wings of light began to fade as he kept walking forward. As he arrived in front of her, he raised his hand to the side of her head. She flinched, expecting to be struck down as a devil. Only to find a sense of warmth envelope her. His great armor started to disintegrate, and with it came his visor.

His kind face entered her vision, and it was as if lightning had struck her, causing the fear in her to become tied up in a garbled mess. Her face confused as she stared into the iris' of her Home Economics instructor.

"Teacher?" whispered Rias.

"Thank you."

An embrace from the Ghost of God to a Devil.

And that day, began the friendship of God and Devil.

Author's Note: I hope I have answered some of your questions in this chapter. Please bear with me as I explore the world of creative writing for the first time. I'd also like to extend my thanks to Archleone for his extensive write up. It has helped me immensely in articulating my thoughts. Thank you all once again for reading, and all reviews (even the censure heavy ones) are welcome.