My Angel Girl

Hell was a cacophony of screams and fire, the air thick with ash and the smell of blood. The sky—if you could call it a sky—was a swirling void of dark red and black, lit only by the occasional burst of flames erupting from the cracked earth. Kikidori stood at the edge of the battlefield, his dark horns glinting in the dim light, his jagged sword dripping with golden ichor.

The war between heaven and hell had raged for centuries, but this battle was different. The angels had gained ground. Their brilliant wings cut through the smoke like silver blades, their voices resonating with hymns that made Kikidori's ears ache.

He was a demon—or so everyone believed. With leathery wings and crimson eyes, he looked the part. His brethren saw him as one of their own, a warrior who had cast aside all remnants of mercy long ago. But deep within Kikidori's blackened soul lay a secret: he was no ordinary demon.

He had once been an angel. A fallen angel.

"Push forward!" a voice bellowed, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Kikidori turned to see Torvun, a towering demon with a chest like a furnace and fists like molten rocks, leading the charge. With a guttural roar, the demons surged forward, slashing through the angelic ranks with savage glee. Kikidori followed, his sword flashing as he cut through the ethereal forms of his enemies.

It wasn't long before he found himself standing over one of them.

She was unlike the others. While most angels radiated an overwhelming purity that Kikidori found nauseating, this one had a softer glow. Her golden hair was matted with dirt and blood, her armor dented, her sword broken. Yet her violet eyes burned with defiance as she stared up at him.

"Do it," she spat, her voice trembling but fierce. "Kill me, demon."

Kikidori raised his blade, the sharp edge hovering inches from her throat. He had killed dozens of angels without hesitation. Their blood had long since stained his hands, their screams etched into his memory.

But something stopped him this time. Perhaps it was the fire in her eyes, or the way her chest heaved as she refused to show fear. Perhaps it was the way her hair shimmered even in the murky light. She was beautiful in a way that was almost painful to behold.

His grip on the hilt tightened, but he didn't strike.

Instead, he lowered his sword.

"Run," he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

"What?"

"I said, run," Kikidori snapped, his eyes narrowing. "Before I change my mind."

For a moment, the angel simply stared at him, her expression unreadable. Then, with a flicker of her wings, she disappeared into the smoke.

Kikidori stood there for a long moment, staring at the spot where she had been. He could hear the battle raging around him, the screams and the clash of weapons, but it all felt distant.

"What are you doing, Kikidori?" he muttered to himself.

He didn't have an answer.

The end of Chapter 1