The clamor of war cries from both charging parties slashed across the dim skies like the sharp end of a blade tearing through the clouds. Even the sun had descended back to the east in fear of the raging thunderstorm that was the Creator's fury. Archangel Michael who was in the frontline alongside the army of divine guardians, suspended his sword mid-air. With a valiant stance and resolute fearlessness in his voice, he cried out. "Ye bring forth glory to the Almighty one!"

Angels, regardless of celestial hierarchy, howled a phrase of accord in unison just as the rumble of lightning boomed against the battleground, the welkin itself. Their opponent, on the other hand, wore an equally determined expression in their faces, showing no signs of trepidation. Lucifer's followers bellowed a series of battle cries and they charged to the direction of their opponents.

The Archangel's army fighting in the name of the Creator outnumbered their foe by a third of their totality, but the rebellious angels are in no way conceding. The two factions clashed and in the several minutes that followed, the noise of angry bolts of lightning and thunders was drowned out by the sound of weapons colliding, clanks of metal against metal, slick thuds of knife-edges hitting home, and horrendous bawls of terror and pain from fallen warriors.

Their numbers were both halved as more bodies collapsed in the sobbing bags of rainwater. Archangel Michael, his left cheek lacerated with a deep bleeding gash, cried encouragement to the remaining angels as he fought his way to Lucifer, the impudent rebel who dared protest against the will of the Lord. He slashed his sword at an enemy's chest, immediately connecting to her flesh and wings, a few white feathers wafted slowly in the air as the angel tumbled out of balance. "Lucifer!" he growled, his gaze seeking the other.

As if the angel's rage alone summoned Lucifer, the latter came into focus. He was  tearing another cherubim with his spade, almost severing the arm. Archangel Michael took advantage of his inattention. Shifting all his power onto the hand that held his weapon, he charged in the direction of Lucifer with all agility and steath possible.

In one swift motion, Archangel Michael's sword tore the skin and into Lucifer's skull. The lifeless heap of bloody mess collapsed. But when he turned to look at his face, it wasn't the devil.

Park Jimin bolted upright, his either hands trembling in dread. For a second, he lost his wits, not even realizing that his forehead was beaded with sweat.

Reaching for his android phone on the bedside table, he coughed a little and only then that he became aware of how hollow and uneven his breathing had become.

It was exactly 3:00 in the morning. What the hell is up with his dream.

"W