Michael

What was happening on earth could only be called chaos. The darkness emanating from the rebellious sh'adhar hung in the air. Sometimes flashes of magic reached the Palace of Light, where Archangel Michael stood.

Being so strong that he could destroy all the lands, Michael simply watched the battle from the clouds. His attentive golden eyes watched the other archangels, his brothers, who were actively fighting, but... A large amount of darkness increasingly surrounded the light, as if wanting to destroy, to swallow. Several ordinary warrior angels fell dead.

Michael rolled his eyes in displeasure, crossing his arms over his chest. The golden armor clinked softly from the movement. He was unhappy that this was taking too long. He could have come and smashed everyone, but he had to hold on, wait, even though his patience was gradually fading.