The Nephilim Rise

Gershon entered the earth domain at a dead run, his sword still in his hand. “N-O-O-O!” he cried plaintively to the renegade angel at the other end of the alley. The holy warrior was desperate to prevent him from doing the unthinkable despite his own wounds and exhaustion from the battle he’d just escaped. The dark-haired figure whirled towards him producing his own weapon, then crouched in a defensive stance ready for battle. The blond guardian raced past his charge, sending a force-blow that knocked the young man backwards onto the pile of refuse safely out of harm’s way. Praying he was in time, Gershon fleetingly noticed the prone female on the hood of the vehicle next to his quarry as he came to a staggering halt facing… “Asshur?” The shock and surprise at seeing one of his closest friends braced to combat him was almost beyond belief. Gershon was momentarily stunned, and a cold dread began spreading through the core of his being as he beheld the baleful look on his friend’s countenance. Thousands of memories flashed through his mind of their times together. They – God’s holy warriors – battling the forces of darkness in such arenas as Babylon, Persia, Egypt, and a host of others before. They had fought together, bled together, and celebrated together. Then Gershon was elevated to guardian and their paths diverged. Now this. “Hello, Gershon,” Asshur greeted darkly, menace coating the words. “It’s been a while.” Although the words were cordial enough, the deadly tip of his sword never wavered. He took note of Gershon’s battle-tattered state. “Looks like the minions need some better motivation. I see you’re wounded, but those scratches are probably not fatal. Still, they did delay you as planned.” Finding his voice, Gershon pleaded with his friend even as he reluctantly brought up his own sword in answer. “Don’t do this, Asshur. I beg of you.” “Your timing never was very good, my friend. You’re too late. I chose her.” A look of horror swept away the imploring expression from Gershon’s face. His silver-pupiled eyes went wide in disbelief as he snatched a glance at the still prone woman. Clearly his mission of prevention was a failure. “No…” he began incredulous, his blade dipping ever so slightly in his horrified surprise. “Yes!” roared Asshur, and he thrust his deadly sword at his stunned friend. Blades clashed loudly as reflexes honed over millennia responded and Gershon parried away the lunge at the last instant. The noise echoed down the alley as the two began circling warily, swords at the ready. “But…but why, my friend? By all that is holy, why?” Gershon was still having trouble believing this was happening. “You know the answer, Gershon.” Asshur’s voice was cold while his eyes searched for an opening. “You know the promise; that He would come back to set up His earthly kingdom when the nation was acknowledging Him as Messiah, the Blessed One, and calling for His return.” His face darkened further. “That could hardly happen if there was no nation of Jews left to be calling out for anything. No nation to--“ “You don’t know what you’re saying!” Gershon interrupted. “Don’t I?” An evil look took over the angel’s face. “We’ve watched His special creatures slowly destroying this once beautiful creation. This place we once ruled—” “They were given the dominion of the planet,” Gershon interrupted again.” Human beings. Not us. Not this time.” The rebel lunged again, this time even faster with a thrust and a swipe. Gershon countered easily in spite of his wounds. “They replaced us, Gershon,” Asshur spat back. “Part spirit. Part animal. They’re no better than talking monkeys, creatures made from the soil of the planet. And look what they’ve done to it. It’s sick and it’s dying.” He hefted his blade. “For all of us to remain free, we must prevent the Return and take back the planet before it is too late.” “Would you do any better, my friend?” Gershon gently prodded stepping back. “Did we do any better? Ancient of Days barely managed to salvage the remains out of Lucifer’s chaos the first time—” A furious flurry cut him off and their blades clashed mightily for some moments. Then a break. “That was different!” Asshur argued. His anger flashed in his silver eyes, and their blades clashed briefly again. “We all agree he and his legions were wrong—”