Well how shall I begin? How would one begin to tell the story of there life? Would they begin with the first events, birth and shit like that? Or would they begin with the things that began to define them. I have been around for many years and yet I cannot figure how to do such a thing. I believe that starting with the first events and just continuing on for a while until you come to something great, then go into detail and describe this in detail. So here we go kids and adults, time for the story.

Child hood is a bitch. First your shoved out from a beautiful all natural sleep into the fucking world, where there’s shit to do. It sucks. But you evolve on and deal. But I never really had a child hood about toys and things. My childhood was training. They taught me everything I need to know. They taught me how to fight, they taught me morals. They inscribed into me everything I needed to know. They taught me the way of god, and all that I needed to learn on how to kill demons and live with humans and how to hunt and what ever. I soon became strong and was called into service. I did justice with a swift strike. I continued with my training and working.

I was chosen to be a protector of the innocent in the area around what is now China. I was part of a secret city in the middle of nowhere called Mythical. This is the Garden of Eden, now a home for angels. The western religions were all formed, for in all respects they are the true religion sense before the time of the out casting. I was the protector, and when you’re the holiest place on earth, your attacked by a lot of demons. I slayed and slayed and slayed until my blades went dull. I then beat and destroyed until I nearly died. I then slept and did it all again the next day, with a better sword and more strength, but stronger enemies. Life became nothing more than death.

I served many years at the forts of Mystical. Many long nights I would fight and many days I would also. I had nothing except my sword, my armor, and my body. I was nothing but a death machine, issuing carnage everyday. Then she should up. Her hair was golden and her eyes were the sky. She was perfection. A calm sight to a man of death. She would heal my wounds when I came in from the battle. Many a night she would run cool water across my face. I would sleep with her lap as my pillow and wish the pain and gore and blood away. My face still stained with the grime and blood was only my job to her. My heaven was now her. Life had now found greatness. I lived. I was alive. Life had found balance. Life had found all that I needed. But God changed plans and we all found new jobs, and lost all that we had ever wanted.

The Christ’s time came. The messiah time was called. The final war of time began. The sides had been started. On the side of good, there was God and Jesus, then there disciples. On the side of evil, you had the massively powerful demon the Devil. You had the trickster and enchanter Satan. And you had the fallen angel Lucifer, the prosecutor against humanity. They declared war and God said yes. All the power of God was now focused around the Christ. This is the shit hole for us at Mystical. Reinforcements were not going to be coming anytime soon. The remaining forces were offered the choice to leave and fight in heaven in the Holy war, or to stay and defend the home of many of us. I had been around for about, well, a very long time. Me and Rachel had been together for a century and she was my caretaker for much longer than that. But evil was conquering all the lands of the world. I decided to defend my home, my life, my love and all my friends. I fought hordes of demons. I watched all my friends die.

I hate life. I hate death. All that I am now is the creation of death. The destruction of life into death is a hard job. For the participant, it is the transference from one reality to another. But for the killer, the wear goes. My friends were leaving me everyday. Rachel began to fear all that was going on. She saw me come in everyday and she would just hold me while I cried for my fallen friends. I soon only had her. The hordes kept coming and we kept losing ground and men. I was quickly rising in power and rank. I soon became a general. My name was being mentioned in heaven as a challenger to Michelle. But I never wanted to leave my home. My Mystical. But the demons came to the walls, they came to the very home I loved. The final fight for the reign over Mystical was to begun. My final death was to begin.

The fight began and took many days. One angel and kill about 2000 demons before he loses strength. There are about fifty remaining angels, many of them caretakers and providers. All the fighters were now at there top stances, at the best form. We all were living gods almost. Rachel knew of our power, but we didn’t. The fight began. When they would destroy one of our homes, we would go into a rage. Rage is all that is, with out control. All power following out destroying many hundreds a second. Rachel saw me rage everyday and come home every night. I was angry all the time, I hated everyone. Rachel would reach out and I would step back. Staying in the anger strengthened the fight. Rage increases rage. But I lost her. She hated that I wouldn’t let her help me.

Mystical fell. In the final days my rage was so over coming that my body not only took on physical armor and weapons, but I now longer needed anything. Few made it out alive. I was too wrapped up in my rage to care that all that I had was now gone. I vanquished and destroyed everyone in the area. Vast stretches of land were sacrificed to my wrath. I was stained. Rachel was gone, crushed a ton of rock. Mystical was gone. The war above still raged. I was left alone on the earth. I soon had to start again. I soon began to refine the ways. I began my part in the end war.

Years and centuries have passed and i have found myself around in the States. I am now the where is he now of the angel world. myth was now my name. the fallen matthew, the defender. my name never appeared again, yet my presence was felt all over. i wonder what i will do these modern days of war.