Michael raised his golden spear high and shouted a single command that echoed across the sky.
"Advance!"
Suddenly, the hesitation vanished from his army of Angels. Bound to his authority, the soldiers who before anxiouslyngripping their weapons now surged forward like a golden tide.
They didn't move because they wanted to. They moved because they had no choice. Michael's command was absolute etched into their very existence.
Gabriel turned slightly toward him, his eyes narrowing. He could feel that Michael wasn't calm. The usual cold precision that defined the Archangel was gone.
It was eplaced with something sharper and feels more erratic. A sense of agitation simmered beneath his expression tightening his jaw and made the corner of his eyes twitching
Michael never looked like this. Not even in the wars that shattered realms or in front of the Black Wall before.
"What's gotten into him?" Gabriel muttered to himself.
