Free Web NovelChapter 4: Chapter 4: I’m Bigger
As she tells him the world needs him, he says no, grabbing her by the throat and throwing her away for endangering the village.
A group of people come to the temples as tourists to walk the mountains, one of the Sherpas guiding them being Amon’s wife. The tourists sneered with contempt. And when they start climbing, midway through, they began to harass her and the other Sherpas.
In the nick of time, Uriel arrives and saves Amon’s wife. When Amon landed, he was glad his wife was safe. Uriel warns him that more will come. And during the night, they did.
Chapter 4
"It really has been a while." Amon said, walking closer, his steps pressing harder the closer he got.
Ureil saw the shining golden eyes, and unconsciously took a step back.
"I am here to talk, no messy business." she reasoned, taking another step back.
"Let me guess, that avalanche... were you trying to get my attention?" he asked, his voice turning rough. Rougher than the usual tone he used with the villagers. "What more would you have done to gain my attention, if I hadn’t walked here right now?"
Ureil breathed in and out, her halo appearing above her as if her body was reacting to the danger before her. She was an archangel, and it had been decades since something forced her halo to come out subconsciously. And the man before her did it with a simple stare.
"I was just ordered to do it. You already know how heaven works, Amon." she told him.
He stopped, his golden eyes dimming, his face dimming with them.
"The heavens are involved?"
"Yes, a direct order from Michael himself." she confirmed.
"..."
There was silence for a while as Amon turned, looking at the moon, his mind churning.
"What the hell happened that made the heavens go haywire?"
The memory came to him. The mission. The SSSSS+ rank mission, something he had never seen in all of creation’s history. Maybe that was it. Something that had shaken even Michael himself.
"What did he say?"
"Lord Michael?"
"Yes. Yes, your lord." he said, frustration lacing his words.
"Umm, he didn’t elaborate. He only asked that you visit him once. He wanted to come himself, but he is duty bound..."
"I know, I know. After the Creator went missing, he and Metatron are barely holding the fort. The same old patchy story we tell ourselves." Amon intervened.
Ureil wanted to interject, wanted to say that was not right. The problem was far worse than he described in such a blank manner, but her lips held themselves shut. She didn’t have the nerve to say anything else.
"So, slay..."
"Don’t use that title on me. I am fond of my new title." he said firmly.
"...and that being?" she asked, holding whatever willpower she had to not just spit on him.
"It’s Guardian. The Guardian."
Ureil opened her eyes, not in awe, not in surprise, but in sheer disbelief at the illogical words standing before her. She wanted to say it, wanted to say it loud:
that the one who erased half the population of an entire species shouldn’t be gifted with that title. The man who once erased humanity shouldn’t be granted it. But she didn’t.
"O... okay. Oh Guard... Guardian, please, if you don’t mind, visit the temple of Michael. Where the sword lays. Converse with almighty Michael."
Amon smiled, the title tickling his pride, the worry of the disaster she was describing drifting away from his drunk mind.
"No." he simply said, walking back down.
"Wai... what? Amon. This is important." she spoke in utter disbelief, watching him just walk away.
"Amon!" she called, but he was already far away, his legs carrying him upward once more as he jumped, high, high above the sky. To where even Uriel’s echo couldn’t reach.
He had said no, but he knew, from all the experience he had gone through, he surely knew. This problem Michael was so afraid of, the problem his system, the very system gifted by the Creator had ranked above any previous SS rank mission, would come to him eventually. So all he wanted in those few measly days in between was...
He started to fall, passing through the clouds, dropping like a meteor toward the glow of the town fires below.
Just a little bit more. Just a little bit.
He thought, as he finally landed near the village, soft as a feather, not making a single sound.
"Oh, there he is!" Cheering shouted, spotting his golden hair.
"Where the fuck have you been? I had to carry most of your booze inside the temple house." he complained.
"Huh? Booze? There’s more?" Amon asked.
Cheering smiled. What reached Amon’s mind was the alcohol, more than any offer of help.
"Yeah yeah, but go meet your wife. She was getting worried."
Amon patted his shoulder.
"Of course I will, Chieftain." he said, walking toward the fire, where he saw his wife standing, waiting for him.
Cheering stood wide-eyed, watching his broad back.
"You already knew!" he shouted after Amon.
Amon turned back.
"Of course!" he said.
Cheering smiled, finally understanding why his father had suddenly begun talking about making him chief of the village. It was Amon’s plan all along. The plan of the Guardian.
I will try my very best. Got big shoes to fill, after all. he thought, gripping his hands tight.
Morning came quickly. The sun shone gold on the mountain and on the village, which looked more like a small city than a mere village. Many houses stood four and five stories tall, the roads and pavements smooth and clean, constructed from stone.
Residents cleaned their solar panels as the sun finally reached them after a spell of grey skies. The fiery, passionate villagers of the night before were calm now. Everyone waking up to their jobs. Some shopkeepers, some butchers, some crafters.
But most of them were guides, not simple guides but guides who led adventurers into the mountains, Sherpas who knew the dangerous high peaks like the backs of their hands. Surviving and living in a space where most people would struggle to breathe.
"Another batch of tourists is arriving soon." Cheering said, gathering most of the residents.
"The agency said this could be a difficult batch, as most of them are..."
The many people, including Nyima herself, already knew where they were from as Cheering revealed the list.
"...from America..."
"Oh, can I cancel this time?" one of them asked. All at once more hands went up, asking to swap their shift. But Cheering knew that even though Westerners were free-spirited and didn’t listen much to the Sherpas, they were still the highest-paying group among all nationalities.
And the village’s main source of income came from the travel agencies themselves, and this package was something they couldn’t pass up.
It’s a $400,000 contract. A once in a lifetime opportunity. This needs to happen. Then the village can develop further and hopefully have the budget to migrate to a safer space.
He thought, looking at his people.
"The guides this time will have a bonus. The more weight one can carry, I will ask to double the money. How’s that?" he said.
Everyone suddenly lit up from those words alone, breaking into conversation about what they would buy. Some said an expensive heater. Some said they wanted to buy a fine liquor to gift their Guardian.
Clap!
Cheering clapped, drawing the attention back.
"Now let’s go. We have a job to do." he said. Everyone nodded, excited and ready.
***
Meanwhile, Amon gradually woke up, the sheets barely covering his body. He placed his hand to his right, where his wife usually was, but she wasn’t there.
"Huh, Nyima dear, where are you?" he called, but no answer. Then he saw a note, handwritten by her.
"Hmm, work? I’ve told her so many times she doesn’t need to work." he complained, missing her company, missing her warmth.
He still remembered their night together, the passionate scent still lingering in the air. He had needed to calm her frustration, actually, as she had said she was bleeding again. Sad that she wasn’t able to bear him any heirs.
How can I tell her it’s not her fault.
He thought, as he rose from the bed, his drowsiness beginning to fade. He grabbed the bottle by his side, a bottle full of 99% alcohol, and gulped it down like water, not leaving a single drop.
"Haaa..."
"That hit the spot." he said, feeling the drowsiness flood back pleasantly.
Knock knock.
"Huh, who’s there?" he asked.
Knock! Knock!
"Who the fuck..." Amon complained, walking to the door, the sheet doing questionable work covering him.
He opened the door outright. Pasang was there, and beside him stood the familiar white-haired, golden-eyed individual. Pasang covered his eyes the moment the door swung open.
"Wha!! Have you no shame! You have a wife, for God’s sake!" Pasang shouted.
The angel, now in flesh without his wings and halo, stood before Amon, looking him over, mostly at the weapon at hand.
"Hmm. Bigger than I thought." Ureil said.
"You.." he said, as he kept glaring at her, while Pasang kept shouting, kept hitting him with a stick.
