Celestial Plane

**Heaven** or commonly known as the **Celestial Plane** was more powerful than Norland. It was equal to the Abyss and Hell. Celestials used their wings of light as a source of energy, considering them a symbol of status and prestige. Six-winged angels were supreme beings, which was why Midren’s battle edition had so many as well.

Martin was currently resting against a tall tree, surrounded by a dozen soldiers wearing the same regular armour he himself was covered in. This was a common low-end squad in the war, made entirely of celestials except for him. With the citizens of heaven willing to go entire days without a word, his habit of muttering to himself as he rested drew a number of questioning gazes.

He was currently in the process of removing one of his pauldrons, but the dried blood caused the metal and undershirt to stick to his wounds. He gasped in pain as the flesh parted to give way, glaring at the armour as he examined it, “This is supposed to be celestial armour? Bah, so disappointing!”

Despite the harsh criticism, however, he placed it gently to the side. Heaven was different from Norland; if the armour came into contact with the wrong things, it could be eroded in moments. While this was standard issue armour in the celestial army, it would be considered a full sub-legendary set in Norland. While he had an oily attitude at times, he still needed this thing to keep him alive.

## Plot

### **Radiant Lord**

The civil war in heaven was currently in full swing, with battles occurring at every corner of the vast world. Countless celestials fell by the minute, their bodies and souls returning to the origin of light. This was a special world where newborns were actually reincarnations, but that cycle of life was currently threatened.

The celestials had only ever pointed their blades towards the outside for hundreds of thousands of years, but the race that worshipper the origin of light had suddenly split into two factions. All celestials were purists, unable to tolerate any deviation in faith. In their eyes, there was no middle ground or compromise when it came to belief. Both sides believed in slightly altered explanations for the source of this origin, but that gave rise to a war that now encompassed the entire plane.

Amongst the incessant fighting of the celestial warriors was an unusual specimen— a human named Martin who had come from one of the lower worlds. He would not return to the origin of light like the other warriors here, and his death would be a true dissipation of body and soul, but he fought on with vigour regardless. He wasn’t the only one of his kind here either; both sides had mortals participating that were viewed as insane fanatics by the celestials themselves.

However, amidst the incessant fighting, Martin did a truly crazy thing— he had the warriors under him break away from the main fight. The war had been in progress for a long time, and while Richard had defeated the reapers, crushed Lithgalen, and even reached the depths of the Eternal Battlefield Martin had survived battle after battle after battle. Regardless of how much of a disadvantage he was in, he fought with the same passion he had first entered with and was now a low-level officer who led thirty true celestials.

Celestials were a contemptuous lot who disdained all mortal life. Martin wasn’t promoted because they appreciated him, but because most of the other warriors he fought alongside had died. With the other recruits being too green to take command, they had no option but to give control to him.

The team of thirty had been whittled down over the course of this battle, and those that remained were riddled with injuries. Most of them looked numb and simply weren’t listening to him anymore; were it not for his four massive wings of light, they would have dispersed long ago. However, a four-winged warrior had the qualifications to lead a thousand-man force of celestials, while Martin only had thirty at best who were constantly malcontent. However, he didn’t even pay attention to such things as he focused on the relentless battle. “For the Light!” Martin screamed and waved his sword, the same actions he had always taken to spur on his subordinates. He spread his four wings and flew up to the tip of the pumice, preparing for the white tide of celestials that were rushing towards his position. Turning around for a moment, all he saw was fourteen pairs of wings desperately flapping into the distance.

The small floating rock had become Martin’s personal battlefield, raging flames and blinding lights drowning it regularly. Only occasionally could one see the two opposing sides in battle, but Martin constantly prayed in a low voice even as his longsword sent enemy after enemy back to the origin of light. A beam of pure white eventually landed on him and replenished his waning energy, giving him the strength to continue fighting.

## References

1. ↑ Book 9, Chapter 63
2. ↑ 2.0 2.1 Book 9, Chapter 119