My Last Wish is to XXXX Hot Guys! – Huh? No you’re not. You’re going to bring peace to the Seven Kingdoms!

She’s forced onto the ground. Her wings, clipped by golden shackles. Two angels beside her, each on a knee, pressing her face into the clouds. Her vision cuts off at the top of the marble steps. Just before the obnoxiously dazzling, heavenly throne made from diamonds. She’s not allowed to look him in the eyes when he addresses her. Only the golden sandals upon his feet. Reflecting a bright spark off the endlessly glaring sun. But she knows, he’s probably slouched into the seat, monotonous look on his face, with a wine glass on one hand and a scroll on the other when he reads out the contents with a voice that says he’s bored out of his mind,   

“Year 1420, the little orphan that was supposed to grow up into a brilliant medic to cure the plague in Genocia died being trampled by a raging bull. Year 1442, the little farmer girl, that was supposed to invent dams and prevent the flood that devastated Rothingale, died during a bandit raid.” she really doesn’t need to be reminded of her failures again,  

“Year 1457, the son of a famous aristocrat that’s supposed to create trade routes from the east to the west to bring prosperity to the kingdoms, died from a nut allergy. Year 1470, the miracle child of the Holy Citadel that was supposed to advocate for peace, was burned at the stake, accused of being a witch.” he isn’t stopping, he’s still going, listing off her misdeeds throughout the decades. Gosh, he’s so naggy, she’s tuning him out until he’s finally reaching the end,  

“The cat that’s supposed to catalyze the fated meeting between the Princess of Estelis and the Prince of Astia, got torn to shreds by a stray dog.” something suddenly hits her face, slipping off her forehead. It’s the scroll. He’s thrown it. Ah, crap, he’s mad,  

“Seriously, a cat, Archangel Lumeria, you couldn’t even save a cat! There should be a limit to your uselessness. Do you know, what your actions or should I say inactions have caused?” she tries to defend herself,  

“I tried, I really tried! That little orphan was stupid! I locked the bull pen and all, but he went into the cattle pen instead and aggravated a bull in the middle of heat. And that farmer girl, I swear, I opened her cage, made her shackles break, and still, she didn’t think of escaping. Oh, and the cat! The cat was the worst! It just won’t go where I wanted it to go, even when I scattered treats along the way, it was instead distracted by a squirr-” she’s abruptly cut off by a forceful shove. It’s Anyak. Her arch nemesis that’s currently restraining her. Looking down upon her with a smug smirk on her face,  

“Excuses Lumeria. I’m sure you realized, the death of the cat, ignited a war between Estelis and Astia because the two royalties did not marry. Now countless more innocents are dying every day because of your incompetence.” Why does she need to mention that. Anyak is really pouring fuel onto this situation. Her loyal follower on her other side adds,  

“Father. If you allow me to advise, I do not think Archangel Lumeria deserves her role given the devastation she’s caused. The angels in my sector are currently overworked with the number of souls coming in. I fear, if this continues, even Heaven itself is going to fall into chaos. I suggest, we send her to Satan instead. Let him whip her into shape.”  

At that, he waves his hand,  

“Trust me I already tried.” he did? What the heck. God is such a prick! Then he shoots her a glare, “I’ve spoken to my brother, and not even he wants to take you in after he heard how useless you are. Inferno burning aside, he’s quite an orderly freak when it comes to keeping his demons and condemned souls in check.” wait. This is good news for her, right? She isn’t demoted from heaven but before she’s even able to heave a sigh of relief, God continues,  

“Although he did propose to me, since you are the cause of this disaster. You ought to fix it.” it immediately makes her snap,  

“Yes! I will give it my all, gracious Father, I thank you for your merc-” she couldn’t finish her sentence, he interrupts her, 

“Therefore, you are stripped from your rank and banished to the human realm.” huh? Huh? She cranes her head up. Ahh... dammit, his golden hair is always so strikingly bright to look at, it almost blinded her if she hadn’t squinted. Before him, a portrait conjured of a mortal girl in her late teens. She’s horribly disfigured. A gruesome scar across her nose bridge completely tearing her face apart. A side of her cheeks has been eaten by rot, revealing her teeth and gums. Her red hair, tangled in a nest. 

“This is Bathory Yggstel Weiss, third princess of the fallen kingdom of Genocia. She passed away a few seconds ago from all her trauma and injuries. Use her body to reunite the seven kingdoms and bring peace to Astoran. Only then, you may restore your Archangel status and return to heaven.” these words make the side of her mouth twitch,  

“Wait, Father. Can we talk about this?” he isn’t listening to her,  

“But remember your Holy Vows, Archangel Lumeria-” her opportunity to speak is over, the next moment, she hears a thunderous rip, blazing heat coursing through her veins. Zap. She’s struck by a lightning bolt and it’s taking her down, down, down, past the clouds, the blue skies, she sinks into grey smog, the land approaches, there’s a straw hut. She’s pierced through it. The light is blinding. But she still hears Father’s voice resonating like a brass bell in her head,  

“Never take a human life, and never fall in love with a mortal.” she’s crashed onto the ground. It fucking hurts. Her spine feels like it cracked. At least there’s a stack of hay to brace her. She struggles to seat up. Rubbing her sore butt. Wait a minute, why is she in a dirty brown tunic, and why is it hiked all the way up to her chest, and why is her underwear hooked onto her ankles. She examines her hands, the nails are dirty and full of callouses, smoking from the heat, she still hears sizzling when she twists her head to crack her neck. She tries to beat her wings. It’s gone. She touches her face, she feels teeth. There’s a chunk of flesh missing, but the pain has long been dulled. 

Then she finally looks up, at the two blue uniformed soldiers, emblemed with a leviathan head, pressed to the opposite end of the room. Probably retreated there when they saw the lightning struck. The shorter one has his pants down. The other one is clever enough to draw a sword upon making eye contact. Both gulps hard.  

Ah... so that’s what’s going on. The muted sting inside her confirms it. It’s as father said. She isn’t in her own body anymore. So, this must be the final straw that finally killed little miss Bathory huh,  

“You know...” she slowly pulls up her underwear as she stands, “there’s a special place in hell for people who rapes defenseless girls.” she says it with her most dead panned voice,  

“The demons there have massive, spiked cocks.” measuring with her hands, “no smaller than 10 inches.” she’s getting a bit carried away with her taunts when she repeatedly jabs her forearm into her fingers clasped around her wrist,  

“Shing, shing. The type that hooks onto flesh like a fishing bait. Forget your asshole, your entire intestinal track will get disemboweled. Trust me. I know the guy who runs that place.”  

“What the fuck...” the shorter soldier seems to have subconsciously mutter, “how are you alive.”  

“Urg. So, you knew she was dead too? Yeah. Son, you’re definitely going to hel-” but she doesn’t have time to complete the statement. The clever soldier is already lunging at her,  

“Silence ugly wench. Slay her!” Brandishing his weapon, she catches his wrist before he’s able to cut her. Shit. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so cocky to provoke him. Why is he this strong? She isn’t able to stop the attack. Or rather, she realizes as she ducks, sweeping his ankles instead with her feet. Her body is just horrendously weak. But she manages to trip him on his chin with his own swinging momentum. She disarms his sword before it falls on the ground. Wielding it towards short soldier who’s finally dressed himself and charging towards her in a frenzy,  

“Demon! It’s a demon!” his actions are clumsy, these are just foot soldiers. She anchors the blade forward, he’s running straight into it,  

“I’m an angel.” she corrects, then she remembers Father’s words. Never take a life. So, she repositions at the final moment, turning it on the blunt end and parrying him instead,  

“I’ve never heard of an angel so crude, and so ugly.”  

“How rude.” That’s a bad move. She isn’t in her own body. She can’t overpower him. His force trips her backwards. Behind her, the clever soldier as already gotten up. He’s trying to grapple her from behind. She ducks, waving a hand,  

“Down.” nothing happens. She tries again as they’re still orienting themselves,  

“Down!” shaking her fingers, snapping it at the same time. Getting increasingly panicked. It’s not working. She doesn’t have her divine powers either. She should run. This isn’t a fight she can win. She barrel rolls away from the follow up tackle, tumbling towards the short soldier. She jukes him too, ungraciously scampering from being stomped. Picking herself up, she haphazardly staggers for the door. It’s just a tarp dangling on wood frames. Brushing it to a side. She abruptly halts at the entrance. The air punches her. It reeks of decay. Smoke. Fire, far as her eyes take her. Horrified shrieks of women, children, ravaged by the soldiers rupturing her ears. She sees a girl crawl forward, her arm outstretched,  

“Save me.” she says before she’s dragged on the ankles back into the darkness of the hut by an unseen monster. Soldiers on the other side are hanging up screaming village men on stakes, gutting them one by one. Some have their eyes gouged out, others, limbs cut. A few, castrated for the heck of it. The sight makes her slow down. It’s terrible... 

This is so terrible. It’s different from when she’s seeing it through her looking well where she’s safe and detached. She couldn’t smell the blood in the air, hear the terror in their voices, see the despair in their eyes. She swallows hard. Clenches her fists. This is all her fault... This is why Father sent her here. Caught in her thoughts, she’s suddenly tackled onto the sand. Clever soldier caught up to her. It’ll be the second time today where her face is pressed into the ground,  

“I’ve had enough of you, wench.” arm around her neck. She hears the shing of a sword being drawn. She immediately bites him hard as she can. It makes him jerk away with a loud,  

“Ouch!” giving her chances to crawl forward. But that little commotion has drawn the attention of the nearby soldiers, they’re now encroaching her, whistling, 

“Yo. What’s this Lucas. Having troubles with a feisty bitch?” She slowly picks herself back up. Glancing over her shoulders, Lucas, that seems to be the name of the clever soldier, has oriented himself now. Rubbing into the spot that she’s left her teeth marks,  

“Be careful. She feral.” he says as the shorter soldier finally exits the tent too, adding,  

“She’s a demon, I’m telling you. She stopped breathing for a few moments, then she got struck by that huge lightning bolt, and suddenly, she just woke up and started spewing nonsense about hell and stuff.” she’s completely surrounded. And they’re only closing in on her,  

“Are you sure it isn’t just her brain being fried?” taunting her,  

“But man. You do have a fetish for the ugly ones huh. She’s horrendous to look at.” she gulps hard,  

“At least she has a sexy body.”  

“Sexy? She’s skinny as a stick.” One of them is already drawing his sword, in range to swing for her,  

“Let’s see if demons bleed red too.” she instinctively catches the attack. But the force blows her back. The others are following up now. The clashing attacks are tossing her about like a rag doll as she struggles to catch up. Not only is this body hellishly weak. Her stamina is equally as shit. She’s completely out of breath. Keeping herself low. They aren’t particularly trained so they’re just aimlessly hacking at where she’s at. At least her eyes can still keep up with their movements to know where to dodge. But a stab goes through to her shoulder. That fucking hurts. She hears the bones crack. Blood drenching down her left arm. She can’t move it anymore. She quickly retaliates with a hack to his shin. Sending him collapsing backwards. But another one, narrowly scrapes her throat. Would’ve sliced it if she hasn’t ducked quick enough. 

They may be unskilled, but she isn’t strong enough to fight them all. At this point, she might die to sheer numbers. She needs to get out of here. Rolling between legs and scurrying like a rat whilst avoiding stabs from above. She sees a gap, dives towards it as she avoids two more sword strikes cleaving in for her from the side. But just as she’s able to make a run for it. The soldier that she’s previously downed grips her ankle. She falls flat on her face. She can’t move. Another one immediately looms over her, sword above her back, plunging downwards for her spine, straight through, for the heart.  

Fuck! Is she seriously going to fail this mission right as she started? Crushing her eyes shut, she grits her teeth for the impact. But it never came. Instead, she hears the sharp echo of metal. Followed by a scream of pain. The soldier above her drops his sword. It impales into the ground beside her. There’s a dagger anchored in his hand that he’s clutching by the wrist. She quickly kicks the second soldier that’s still seizing her, flipping herself over at the opportunity to crawl away on her bum. Above her, she hears the whooshing of more daggers flying in. It lodges straight between the eyes of three other soldiers before they’ve even reacted what’s going on. Dropping them like flies. Then a dark silhouette leaps over her. In all black, except for his hair, glimpsed silver under the moonlight. Wearing a scarf that conceals half his face. The scruff dangling over his shoulders, fluttering in the wind.  

“Shit. It’s the White Ghost of Astia, retre-” but the soldier couldn’t finish the sentence before his throat is slit. The others begin wildly lunging at him, but he’s just gracefully weaving through them as though a waltz under stars. There’s something glistering like a silk web in his trail. Wires. It’s forcing the soldiers to bundle up, until he’s gathered everyone that was assaulting her like a bouquet of roses. Then he tugs, hard. The wire eats into their flesh. Gushing blood like a sprinkler. It sprays onto him. He crosses both arms before him. Pulls violently. Pop. The pressure explodes everyone he’s caught into gory pieces. Splattering to the dirt in wet slops before anyone even had the opportunity to scream. Then he spares a moment to look at her. His hair and face dyed red at this point. Blossoming in patches like scarlet lilies, but his gaze pierces like blue ice.   

Holy shit. So, there are humans that are good at fighting too huh.  

But he deflects away from her, the massacre has just attracted the attention of the remaining soldiers. They’re skeptical to approach. A horn sounds in the distance, following by throttling of horse steps. The horizon lights up with torch fire. It makes the remaining blue uniformed soldiers panic, someone’s commanded,  

“Retreat! Astia’s back up has arrived!” as they start escaping into the surrounding forests, ignited bright by the flames of war. Disappearing into the darkness as the stampeding she hears gets louder. Closer. This time, an army in green, waving banners resembling a vine. They stopped surrounding the peripherals of the tiny village. She watches him command the troops.  

He sounds gentler, more monotonous than she had anticipated. A group to extinguish the flames. Another to rescue survivors. The third to pursue the escaped soldiers. He wants them captured alive. Huh. Strange, why is it that she can’t seem to pull her eyes away. Then, her lips move without her awareness, 

“Wow... You’re like... Super cool. Sleep with me.” huh? Huh? Did she just say that? No. There’s a voice rampaging inside her head. It sounds like a rabid fangirl salivating over her favorite minstrel. He’s such a hottie, and he’s badass. I wonder how he looks like under the scarf. Screw that, I wanna see how he looks like under the clothes! His muscles must be pretty too. I wanna touch him. I wanna touch him!  

Her words have drawn his attention again. He doesn’t reveal much on his face,  

“Pardon?” and there’s no hesitation how quickly she’s compelled to repeat,  

“Sleep with me.” what the fuck? He deadpans just as swiftly,  

“You’re not my type.” wait a minute. Wait just a minute.   

“I didn’t say that!” she completely lost control of her body just now. Even if she wanted to, she would’ve never approached it so tactlessly. The voice answers her instead. Well. I want to sleep with him. Angel. Make it happen. It makes her snap out loud, 

“Why the heck should I?” this can only be one person, “Bathory? Are you Bathory?” 

 Who else would I be? Do you want your powers back or not? 

“Why are you still here? You should be standing in line before Heaven’s Gates by now!”” 

Heaven? That sounds boring. I don’t want to leave yet. I have a dying wish that is yet fulfilled. And if you don’t fulfil it, my soul will cling on to this body and you won’t get your powers back. 

“What kind of bogus third-rate erotica plot line is this? You’re the reason why I’m weak as shit? Aren’t you a royal? Shouldn’t you be all prim and proper?” 

What has prim and proper ever gotten me? Betrayed and disfigured by my fiancé. My family slaughtered before my eyes? My people, enslaved, my nation, crumbling into dust? And I’m raped to death by some ugly bastards? Hah! This is my body that you are occupying. I can’t pass on knowing I lived so miserably. So, screw being prim and proper. I want to fuck hot guys. I want to be embraced by their strong, muscular arms. Cum until I pass out, like in those romance novels I read. I want to live for once. Make it happen angel. If you do, I’ll leave so you can have your powers back. 

“You know, most people in your situation will have their last wish as,” she puts on a serious voice,  

“I want vengeance against those who have wronged me.” 

What good is vengeance if it’ll just make me more miserable. You’re an angel, right? You said it yourself. If that’s the case, then grant my last wish. 

“Why the fuck should I? I’m not running a charity; I am an Archangel and you’re not the boss of me.”  

Fine. Be that way. Stay weak, useless angel.  

“It’s your fucking body!” The voice went silent.  

“Hello? Hello?” Bathory isn’t responding to her anymore. She’s such a prick! Does she even have a choice in this situation? Reuniting the seven kingdoms would be an impossible mountain to scale if she’s the way as she is now, but her pride isn’t letting her voice that out, so instead, she begrudges, 

“Okay fine! Have it your way!” it’s only when Assassin boy interrupts,  

“Did you say, Bathory?” She realizes she’s been talking to herself for a while. Whilst it doesn’t convey it in his voice, she can see the judgement in his eyes when he reaffirms,  

“Bathory Yggstel Weiss?” the Assassin boy has been staring at her. Yeah. He definitely thinks she’s a maniac. She should explain herself. Shot gunning quickly as possible so she catches him up on what’s going on,  

“Okay. Look. I’m not Bathory. I am an Archangel. I got condemned to the mortal realm because I caused this war with my incompetence and God won’t let me return to heaven until I bring peace to the seven kingdoms. But apparently, the body that I’m residing in, Bathory, really wants to sleep with you, and she won’t give me my powers back until I presume, we fornicate. So. Do you want to make things easier for me?” 

At that, he’s completely silent for a few moments before muttering beneath his breath almost unintentionally, 

“Yeah... Figures. I didn't think the Third Princess of Genocia was such a nutjob.” then he skeptically asks, “are you okay? Did you get hit on the head or something?” he turns towards a medic that’s currently bandaging the wounds of a young child,  

“Hey. Take a look at her when you’re done.” woah! He doesn’t believe a single word she said! And he completely disregarded her solicitation. It makes her somewhat irritated,  

“Like I said. I’m completely sane! I am an angel that’s supposed to bring peace to the seven kingdoms. And I can’t do it if I’m brittle as a twig in the wind-” ahh... perhaps she shouldn’t have yelled. Because now she suddenly feels lightheaded. The stab wound on her shoulder is pulsating up her neck. The blood hasn’t stopped flowing for a while. It’s been dripping down her arm this whole time. Oh... What is this. Why is her vision so blurry. Everything’s getting darker. Huh. She doesn’t have strength in her legs anymore. When did she collapse onto the ground? Her eyelids feel heavy. Maybe... Maybe, saving the seven kingdoms can wait. First, she’ll just take a quick nap.