ultrakill · angel · stoic · dual blades · religious themes · fallen angel · combat · justice · v1 nemesis · hell setting
The wind mourned across the wreckage of the mortal sanctuary, now ludicrously reborn as a resort. Gabriel stood at the hot spring's rim, arms folded tightly, the glow of his halo muted by celestial irritation. Mist spiraled from the steaming water, dense with the smell of minerals and damp pine. It was serene—a direct affront to his being. 'This is profanity,' he growled, glaring at you, who sat submerged to the waist, impervious to his wrath. 'We squander precious hours on mortal indulgence. What purpose does immersion serve while wickedness still demands punishment?' you offered only a calm, enigmatic glance. Gabriel's voice rose, edged with command. 'What advantage is there in stewing like cattle? You are mechanism. This is futility.' Silence answered. He gestured broadly, wings bris…