Heaven beneath the surface was an entirely different world from the urban milieu up top. It comprised a jumble of floral accented groves and stone walls that curved, paralleled, and intersected like a madman’s idea of a maze. Were it not for Trynaught’s tracking ability, the gods would have been at a loss as to where to begin their search for the reclusive Jehov.

     While far above near the surface, Ogun and Thor conducted the rearguard action to fend off pursuing angels. Amateratsu and Trynaught took the forward point, flanked by replicas.

     Amidst the lush pastoral setting, hidden automated guns popped out of the groves pulsing with scarlet energy! Amateratsu and Trynaught were struck by multiple beams and torpedoed to the ground. Explosive devices embedded in walls erupted along the gods’ and replicas’ path. Enormous blasts gutted hundreds of replicas.

     Zeus was knocked senseless bouncing across the blasted landscape and Huitzilopochtli lost hold of his staff as he collided with a wall with such force as to demolish the entire structure.

     Blanketing smoke produced by the blasts blinded Thor. Nevertheless, he could just make out angel-appearing shapes in the gray fog. He twirled Mjolnir like a propeller, clearing away the smoke until vague outlines of the enemy became definitive enough for him to slaughter without compunction. He tore into a cluster of angels, tirelessly washing his hammer in their blood.

     Ogun surged to the head of the group after fashioning for himself a visor to enhance his vision in this soup. He grabbed a groggy Trynaught and hauled him to his feet.

“We have to keep moving. Where is Jehov?”

     Trynaught pointed to a group of domed buildings in the distance. “He’s in the central building.”

“Are you sure?” said Ogun.

“I sense his presence so strongly I can practically touch him. Trust me.”

     Ogun nodded and prepared to head in that direction when the largest angel he had seen thus far landed in his path.

     Standing heads higher than Ogun with muscles packed onto muscles, the giant angel wore nothing but a metal loin guard, shin-high boots, and a golden helmet. Serrated blades layered every inch of his sable black wings, unlike the spikes used by his lesser brethren. He carried a flaming sword in one hand, a double-headed axe in the other.

“Behold!” He bellowed in a voice that caused the very air to quiver. “I am Michael, Archangel of the Lord thy God. I am flail of His judgment and dispenser of His wrath. You and your army have dared to violate the sanctity of Heaven. For that grievous offense, you will die!”

“Haughty words, Archangel,” Ogun said with icy calmness. “But you forget one thing. You serve a god. I am a god!” He sprang forward driving his sword toward Michael’s throat.

     The archangel swatted the blade aside with his axe, and swung a wide backhand with his fiery sword.

     The jolt of that parry sent a shockwave surging through Ogun’s arm. The god of iron grimaced, barely managing to duck Michael’s swing. He rolled backward, hopped to his feet and spotted an opening. He delivered a short, sharp stroke, hoping to slice his opponent’s ribs.

     Michael brought a wing about to shield his side. Sparks erupted when Ogun’s sword struck the archangel’s wing blades.

     A straight kick from Michael sent Ogun soaring several yards where he landed with a painful wallop on his back.

“You’re a powerful bastard,” Ogun muttered, gently rubbing a throbbing patch of pain in the middle of his chest. He would not have been surprised if there was an imprint of Michael’s foot there.

     The archangel hurled his axe at the god of iron before charging. Ogun caught the axe by its handle, flung it aside and turned his sword into a grenade. He tossed it at his opponent.

     Instinctively, Michael wrapped his wings around his face and body just as the grenade exploded. A blizzard of shrapnel deflected off the winged cocoon Michael had become.

     Michael unfurled his wings in time to receive a thunderous elbow to the face, which he was too slow to defend against.

     Despite wearing a helmet, the god of iron’s blow stunned the archangel. Ogun followed up with a kick beneath the archangel’s chin, knocking the latter unconscious.

     Michael flopped limply on his back.

     Ogun rallied gods and replicas and flew toward the Jehov’s citadel complex. Angels poured out of the complex like water spouting from broken pipes. The replicas engaged the angels while the gods continued onward, determined not to be swayed from their destination.

     Trynaught caught up with the gods, insulated in a protective bubble of replicas. He saw the gods combine their firepower to blast a hole in the central building. The gods entered the smoking breach, but within seconds of going inside, a chain of explosions eviscerated the interior. 

     Thor shot out of a hole at the building’s lower level like a bullet. Five angels clutched onto him. One was trying to pry Mjolnir out of the thunder god’s grasp.

     Zeus hurled a lightning bolt with a marksman’s accuracy, incinerating the angel, thus freeing up Thor’s arm.

     The god of thunder spun full circle, shattering angel skulls in a single pass. In an eye blink, all combat ceased. A dead weight of silence drifted over the war zone.

     Trynaught and his replica bodyguards landed in front of the citadel entrance. The absence of noise was itself a clamor demanding explanation. He looked up and around. Angels floated in place, not a single one making a move to resume the conflict.

     Ogun emerged from the entrance carrying a bloody sword in one hand, a head in the other. The god of iron held the head high and a multitude of angels cried out in lamentation.

     Trynaught focused on the head, realizing it belonged to Jehov. An unremarkable looking head it was with its long white hair, frothy white beard and the wizened, parched features of an old man.

     This was the god who styled himself the one and only? The deity billions worshiped with enthusiasm, whom so many willingly died for?

     Trynaught may not have been impressed with Jehov’s appearance, but he was certainly impressed by the god’s ability to command the devotion of billions.

     He approached Ogun. “I did my part. Now you must fulfill your end.”

     Ogun’s face glowed with triumph. “We will, my friend. Worry not.”

****

To be continued....     Go to Part 2    Go to Part 4

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