In a darkness torn apart by faint light, Michael stood frozen, staring at a spirit unlike any other.
All the spirits were translucent—calm or restless… except this one.
This spirit was dense, shadowed, as if formed from ever-moving black smoke, with two crimson eyes glowing from the void.
Michael's very essence trembled for a moment. He felt a weight pressing against his chest, as if this single spirit carried the burden of thousands of criminals.
The spirit stepped forward in unseen strides, its voice echoing like hundreds of whispers combined:
"Finally… the Angel of Mercy himself has come."
Michael tightened his grip on his flaming sword and said firmly:
"You are different from them… I see no anticipation of birth in you, only a hunger for annihilation."
The spirit laughed, its voice rumbling like thunder:
"Annihilation? No, Michael… I am not like them. All of these read their books before they are born. But my book… has not been written yet."
It drew closer until its smoke brushed against Michael's radiant aura, whispering with dripping malice:
"After two thousand years, when your so-called War of Resurrection comes to pass… I will rise from your ashes. I will be the beginning—and the end."
Michael lifted his head, his eyes unwavering:
"No word will be written for you except by God's will. And if you are born, one will be sent to break your chains."
The spirit let out a chilling laugh as its edges burst into smoke:
"Break my chains? Heh… I will be the one to break humanity's chains. I will turn them into soldiers of darkness and show you, angels, the true meaning of freedom."
Michael stepped closer until his light met the burning smoke and said with a voice as firm as judgment:
"Remember this meeting… remember that the Angel of Mercy has warned you. When you erupt from the womb of time, I will be the first to stand against you."
Silence fell for a moment. Then the spirit slowly retreated, whispering like a prophecy:
"And you will not be enough, Michael… you will not be enough."
It vanished into the darkness.
Michael stood still, his heart heavy with the weight of prophecy. His eyes knew that this spirit was not merely an anomaly… but fate itself.