Written: December 7, 2012 at 21:08
The saga continues! This is Part 2, guys, as promised. Hope you all enjoy!
He stood alone in the vast wasteland.
He was surrounded on every side by myriads of grotesque, jeering devils. This was the one and only moment in all of history when they would ever be able to approach and attack Him without fear; now, when He’d allowed Himself to be at His weakest for the sake of bearing Adam’s colossal weight of sin. His spirit was exceedingly sorrowful, almost being crushed by the sheer weight of the sins of countless individuals past, present and future. Besides that, He had to deal with them… these demons. They closed in menacingly.
But He wasn’t afraid of them. They had not been the source of His pain in the Garden. They had not been the threat before which He had been tempted to flee and which He had almost preferred to have pass from Him. He had something far worse in store for Him.
But they were trying to hinder His work, His mission. They, unlike humanity, had earned His wrath in an unprecedented way. They had deceived the humans and pushed them to do all that they had done to Him since the night before and from as far back as the very first sin. They would be the ones to continue doing so to trillions more after this very day. They were behind the entire series of events that had necessitated His being here in this very situation. And they were now brazen enough to try to stop Him and to attack Him when He was down. His anger was kindled.
Treacherous deceivers! How He loved them and how they’d flung — and were continuing to fling — that love back in His face! He hated the fact that things had to be this way. Love them though He might, He WOULD NOT force them to love Him in return. In His omniscience, He knew without a doubt that there would never be a time when they would be willing to give up their pride and come back to Him with head bowed and tails between their legs. And that simple fact was enough to damn them to Hell for all eternity. It was a fact that caused Him great sorrow and pain — to watch His beloved creations choose eternal damnation under the honest delusion of one day being able to overpower and destroy their Creator rather than to give up their utter stupidity and reinstate themselves as His beloved sons in eternal paradise. But they had made their choice and He was no such fool as to cry over spilt milk. If they preferred His eternal wrath and its horrors, so be it.
They were coming! He sighed and drew His sword to meet their myriads of weapons.
“Oh, sons of Adam,” He whispered, tears coming to His eyes, “why wouldn’t you listen to Me? Are these the ones you preferred over Me and are willing to choose for eternity? Where are their flashy promises now? Where is the advantage you were to gain? Are you happy now? Is sickness and poverty and ultimately death and torment what you wanted? It’s all they’ve given you! Was My rule so wicked and corrupt that you would seek your own? Look where that has brought them! Look where it has brought you! Look where it has brought Me!”
He looked with deepest sympathy upon that moment in the future when so many of these and their offspring would look back upon this moment and regret it horribly, when they would remember the cross and their ignorance of what they were actually doing and to Whom. He looked upon the countless others who would seal their fate and cast their lot with the demons of Hell and Lucifer forever. The tears overflowed slowly.
He felt the attacks coming. Ranged attacks. Darts designed to plant selfishness in Him, to make Him think of self-preservation and abort the mission He had planned carefully with the Father before the formation of the worlds. He could feel everything. The air was rife with devilish power and evil intent. It was sickening. He turned suddenly to face the darts and raised the Shield of Faith that He knew how to use so well. He’d never, ever, been touched by a demon attack in all His 33 & 1/2 years of life, and it would be only too tragic to start now. One touch, even ONE, would mean He had become tainted like the First Adam and unworthy to be the sacrifice for humanity. He was so close to completing the mission. There was no way He could allow Himself to lose focus now.
Even so, He had never felt pressure like this. Every fibre of His being was on high alert. Weighed down by an infinitude of sins as well as by personal dread of what He knew was just around the corner for Him, He was as close to failure now as He would ever be. And the forces of Hell knew it all too well.
The darts slammed into the shield and were instantly neutralized. Useless. He moved the shield out of the way and slashed with His Sword of the Spirit, loosing a colossal pillar of fire which took out a vast number of incoming demons. But it was only a negligible dent in their forces.
Above! He glanced upward quickly. The sky was stained black with arrows, all coming for Him. Just in case the darts had failed, He realized. He knew the danger all to well. Hatred dripped from those arrows; hatred designed to inspire an infernal rage within Him against all of humanity for having brought themselves and Him to this, under the guise of “Righteous Indignation”. Sure, He had more than enough right to be angry with them, but the wrath of men — or demons, for that matter — did not work the righteousness of God.
Fine, so He wasn’t merely a man. But even then, would not a sudden descent into fierce and implacable divine rage work against the will of His beloved Father looking down at Him from Heaven at this very moment — and, indeed, Himself?
Continuing from the earlier movement, He aimed a backhand slash skyward. It was all one smooth, flowing movement from the King of Combat Himself: the block, the counter, the look to the sky and the skyward slash. The sheer strength behind the slash caused shock waves which sent a huge portion of the arrows veering off-course. He raised the sword and shield to the sky immediately after, generating a gigantic surge of dazzling light which vaporized the remaining arrows.
The demons were fast! The first were already upon Him, mere inches away from contact. But they were giving themselves too much credit if they thought He’d gotten careless and let them get too close. With god-like speed, He crouched and drove His sword into the ground, sending out a powerful shock wave all around, blasting hundreds of them back and summoning up walls of earth directly around Him. The walls immediately receded, in effect sweeping the demons away from Him for several yards. Rising to His feet, He waved the sword slowly and then performed a quick, cutting sweep in the opposite direction. As if in answer, shards of fire appeared and launched themselves at blinding speeds into the enemy ranks full circle, multiplying themselves as they went. Soon the air was filled with the sounds of explosions, hissing fire and bloodcurdling screams.
JUMP! a voice in His head ordered. He did. Just in time. Rugged, pointed stalagmites — drenched in an evil aura and very warped and otherworldly in appearance — were coming up from all over, making standing impossible. He ascended higher. Hordes of devils followed Him, jet black wings beating the air into a frenzy around Him. They had the advantage in the sky: He couldn’t fly as well as they could in His current, burdened state…
Dozens rushed at Him. He let them come. He parried the thrust of the first sword, bringing the shield down brutally against the unprotected, grotesque face. To think they’d prefer to look like that than the way He’d actually made them… He stepped off the falling body to give Himself some momentum to face the others. Timing their approach to perfection, He spun deftly to avoid blows, delivering decisive counters until the last had fallen.
A new challenger approached with flashy swordplay and confidence to boot. A cocky, higher ranking agent. It even looked the part, too. This would be a bit tricky if He wasn’t careful. He brandished His shield and His instincts with expert precision, dodging and blocking attack after attack, and presently He found He could read through the line of attack. He lunged forward suddenly, successfully infiltrating the seemingly impenetrable defense. Quickly, expertly, He let go of the handle of the sword, making it spin, and immediately caught it again, twisting His hand to grip it from another angle. He made an upward backslash, disarming the astonished creature, and then rammed the hilt of the sword against it’s cheek. All in one very quick, flowing movement. A mercy-blow. He could just as easily have impaled it or incinerated it into oblivion. He read terror in its eyes as it hurtled away and crashed into the ground. He had heard those thoughts well:
“E-Even in this state He can– We’re nothing to Him!”
Even more were coming now. Indeed they were flocking to Him like moths to a flame. Mass upon mass of dark, pulsating energy closing in at extreme speeds upon a single, central, luminous figure from all angles; mere seconds away from contact. But they wouldn’t get the chance. He twirled in mid-air rapidly, making a corkscrew-turn that generated fierce lightning. This He unleashed upon His assailants and not one — airborne or standing — could avoid the fierce onslaught. The attackers fell away damaged, disoriented and frustrated.
He stopped spinning and floated gently to the ground, battle robes flowing elegantly around Him. No sooner had He landed than a hand burst through the ground, grabbing at His leg. Razor-sharp reflexes kicked in as He lunged to one side, pointing His sword at the hand which burst into flames. The attacker screamed in agony.
“Show yourself,” He commanded.
He would admit it, if only to Himself. He was getting very winded. He’d had to fight numbers like these all His life, given who He was. The forces of Hell came after Him daily like they had never come after and would never go after anyone else. It made sense. He was God in human apparel. If they could catch Him off-guard just once, everything would come undone and they would win. He’d gotten tired sometimes, but never had He felt this low or vulnerable. The weight of the world’s sin, His own strong feeling of unease over the abject terror He knew was racing toward Him even now, and the sheer number of enemies was almost overwhelming.
The air in front of Him distorted as if He were viewing a mirage. Something shimmered into plain view, like a reflection in water coming into focus after the water has been disturbed and the ripples have died down. The figure was 11 feet tall and too grotesque-looking to describe. He almost wanted to puke. But deep down, He felt deeply and genuinely sorry for the poor, stubborn thing.