Michael

What was happening on the ground could only be described as chaos. The darkness emanating from the rebellious sh'adhar hovered in the air. Occasionally, flashes of magic reached the Palace of Light, where Archangel Michael stood.

Being so powerful that he could destroy all the lands, Michael simply watched the battle from the clouds. His attentive golden eyes followed the other archangels, his brothers, who were fighting actively, but... a vast amount of darkness was increasingly surrounding the light, as if wishing to destroy it, to devour it. Several ordinary warrior angels fell dead.

Michael rolled his eyes in dissatisfaction, crossing his arms over his chest. His golden armor clinked softly at the movement. He was displeased that all of this had dragged on for too long. He could have come down and crushed them all, but he had to hold back, to wait, even though his patience was gradually vanishing.