YIPPEE-KI-YAY MOTHERFUCKERS!

  It’s bloody hell and chaos -- a pure mess of bodies, and I love every fucking second of it. I was born for this. I slice and slash my way, leaving golden showers of aether in my wake. I wonder if those archangel bastards are actually fighting to kill, or if they’re trying little more than to dance around each other in a mocking show of my title.

  The thought pisses me off even more, and I crack my head into the forehead of the next soldier who makes the mistake of getting in my way. Something crunches as blood blooms from his forehead, and I cut through his sword-arm at the elbow. He screams as the limb tumbles to the ice. Serves him right for choosing the side of the General. I have to shake my head and blink away a flash of vertigo; I think I’m actually a little dazed from smacking that winged asshole with my forehead.

  It takes a moment, and the double images come back to single, just in time to find another soldier only a few metres from me. I spin around him to grab the back of her hair -- moron should’ve worn a damn helmet to hide the ponytail.

  Didn’t your mommy ever tell you to guard your head when playing with the big boys?

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  I don’t even bother with my sword; I punch her right in the face, letting my knuckles sink deep into the socket of her eye. One more quick jab to the throat and she’s down. I catch Conquest out of the corner of my eye and I smile at them, even as blood drips down into my eye; they give me a wink before strategically pulling back towards the edge of the fray. I would be very afraid if I were the other side.

  Very, very afraid.

  When their eyes get like that, it’d be enough to stop any human’s heart with only a look. Because that is the look of a conqueror; and the conqueror does not lose. No, the conqueror wins at all cost, and does not care if they take the world with them -- or, in this case, the entire force of Heaven.

  Fuck ‘em up, Conquest, I think.

  When a blood feud erupts so that I am in the fray, there are no morals or manners. There is only violence. The rage burns like joy and a roar like thunder rips out of my throat, ending in a shriek-like laugh. I hope those angelic fucks’ feathers are quaking.

  I can never exist in peace, nor would I ever choose to. Why fight my nature when I can revel in it? I hope this fight never ends. This little family squabble made the mistake of waking up the beast and feeding him adrenaline.

  None of you bastards will survive.