Becoming The Strongest Angel With A Saintess System-Chapter 24: Little Warrior, Part Three

Grace's stomach lurched as she and Seraph plummeted through the clouds. The wind whipped her hair around her face, getting in her eyes and mouth. She tried spitting it out while also trying not to scream.

This was her second time flying now and it wasn't going much better than the first somehow. She really needed to start attending those flying lessons.

Well, if she made it out of this alive.

"WAAHOOO!" Seraph hollered, doing a completely unnecessary spiral while Grace's insides were doing somersaults.

They fell faster and faster. The ground zoomed closer by the second. Grace's heart hammered against her ribs so hard she worried it might actually break through.

"Uhm, Seraph?" she squeaked, clinging to the warrior angel's arm with both hands. "Shouldn't we, you know, SLOW DOWN?!"

Seraph just cackled. Actually cackled! Like this was the most entertaining thing she'd done all week.

"Relax, rookie! We've got PLENTY of time before we go splat!"

[Splat?! SPLAT? SPLAT?!]

Grace squeezed her eyes shut.

Eh, maybe dying again this way wouldn't be so bad. At least she wouldn't have to fight a demon if she was just a Grace-shaped puddle on the ground.

The rushing air suddenly slowed. Grace cracked one eye open.

They were gliding now, drifting down much more gently. Seraph looked disappointed by this turn of events, like she'd been hoping to wait until the absolute last second before pulling up.

"You're no fun," Seraph huffed.

"Excuse me, ma'am, I like being alive!" Grace shot back. "Or... whatever I am now."

They touched down in a clearing surrounded by twisted, dead-looking trees. Grace's legs wobbled as she let go of Seraph's arm. She'd flown with Celestia before, but that had been... different. Celestia glided like she was part of the air itself. Seraph flew like she was personally offended by gravity and wanted everyone to know it.

Grace looked around. The mortal world looked bleaker than she remembered. The trees were black and gnarled, and the sky had an ugly, reddish tint to it. It felt wrong being back here.

"So," Grace said, rubbing her arms. "Uhm... Which way to the demon?"

Seraph sniffed the air like a hunting dog, turning slowly in a circle.

"This way," she declared, pointing toward a particularly dense part of the forest. "I spotted it from above earlier today. Small one. Perfect for a rookie's first kill."

"Great," Grace muttered. "Just... yeah, great."

They walked in silence for a bit. Grace kept flinching at every sound – the snap of a twig, the rustle of dead leaves.

Tink tink tink... 

Her armor clanked with each step, announcing their presence to everything within a mile.

[Some stealthy demon hunters we are.]

A shiver ran up Grace's spine. It wasn't just nerves. She felt cold. Really cold. Like someone had replaced her blood with ice water.

"S-Seraph?" she asked, her teeth starting to chatter. "Is it normal to feel cold? Like, really cold?"

Seraph glanced back at her.

"Cold? A little, yeah. That's pretty common when demons are nearby. Their corruption affects the world around them. Angels like us are particularly sensitive to that corruption, and it sorta manifests as feeling cold."

"I don't mean like, 'ooh it's chilly' cold," Grace clarified, wrapping her arms around herself. "I mean 'I can see my breath and my bones hurt' cold."

That made Seraph stop for a moment. She turned and studied Grace with new interest.

"Really?"

"Yes, I swear." Grace hugged herself as best she could. "I mean, I can't literally see my own breath, but it feels like I will soon."

"That's... interesting," she said, looking thoughtful. "Most angels feel a slight chill at most. Maybe you're even more sensitive to demonic presence."

"Lucky me," Grace grumbled.

Seraph grinned, slapping her on the back hard enough to make her teeth rattle.

"Hey, come on! That's good! Means you can help us track them easier!"

[I guess.]

They continued walking. The further they went, the colder Grace felt.

"So," Grace said, trying to distract herself from her chattering teeth. "How long have you been doing this?"

"What, how long I've been an angel?" She raised a brow.

"Yeah."

"HA!" Seraph boomed. "Longer than you can imagine, rookie!" She ruffled Grace's hair, making her pout. "Ah, probably close to about... 700 years?"

"That's... wow. And you still enjoy it?"

"ENJOY IT?" Seraph's eyes blazed with passion. "I LIVE FOR IT! Each demon I send back to the void is one less threat to the mortal world! ... Albeit temporarily." Seraph's enthusiasm dimmed slightly. "Even with as much experience as I have, I can banish them, weaken them, imprison them. But they always return eventually."

"That's awful."

"Well, hey! That's why YOU'RE so important. Ha! Ha! Ha!" She clapped Grace's shoulder three times with each laugh.

Grace still didn't know how to feel about that. Important? Her? The same Grace who'd spent the last several years growing turnips and occasionally selling them at village markets? That Grace was important?

"I still don't understand why Eternia made me," she said quietly. "I'm nobody special."

Seraph stopped walking again. She put her hands on Grace's shoulders, looking down at her with a warm little smile.

"Kid, Eternia chooses who she chooses. I stopped questioning the goddess's decisions after my first few centuries." She thumped her chest. "Our job is to fight. To protect. To smash demon faces until they stop moving. Leave the big cosmic questions to Celestia and her type."

Grace nodded, oddly comforted by Seraph's simple philosophy.

The cold was becoming unbearable now. Grace's fingers felt numb inside her too-big gloves.

"We must be getting close," she whispered.

Then the trees opened up, and Grace's heart dropped into her stomach.

Bodies. Everywhere. Men, women... even children. Torn apart like they were made of paper. Blood stained the ground black in the dim light. Some were still clutching makeshift weapons. Pitchforks, kitchen knives, an old sword. All of which ended up being about as useful as Grace felt right now.

"Oh no," Grace breathed, covering her mouth. She'd seen death before – her parents, Sister Nymera... But it still wasn't easy.

Seraph's face hardened. All the playfulness vanished, replaced by determination.

"This is what they do," she said quietly. "This is why we fight."

Grace couldn't look away from a small body near a fallen tree. A little boy. Not much older than seven or eight.

"Can't we... help them somehow?" Grace asked, her voice breaking.

Seraph shook her head.

"They're beyond our help now. The best thing we can do is catch that demon before it reaches the next village."

"But–"

"Look at me, rookie," Seraph gripped Grace's chin, forcing her to meet those fierce blue eyes. "This is the reality of our war. It's ugly. It's painful. But we KEEP MOVING. We catch that demon, and YOU end it. PERMANENTLY. That's how we honor these people."

Grace swallowed hard and nodded, blinking back tears.

"Follow me," Seraph said. "And stay close. I would guess that it's near."

This chapt𝙚r is updated by freeωebnovēl.c૦m.

Grace took one last look at the massacre behind them, then summoned her tiny sword of light. Pathetic as it was, it was better than nothing.

The cold inside her was now a deep, bone-aching freeze – but it was being replaced by something else. Something warm. Something angry.

[I can do this. I HAVE to do this.]