Nephilim

by Christopher Charles

  “Guide my hand Lord.”

  The beasts charged him collectively. His ankles began to glow and his feet glimmered with an ethereal light. Jumping up, the rings he had placed on his ankles seemed to propel him higher than normal. He avoided their offensive strike gaining the upper hand as the beasts collided forcefully with each other. He glided down slowly and took advantage of the height he had gained by opening fire, raining down bullets on the monsters. They whelped and dispersed in multiple directions, running so they could regroup. His feet landed gracefully but as soon as they touched the ground he moved to cover behind a bench. Andrew watched on the camera in amazement. Mr. Stevens holstered his guns and drew his katana. The sharp yet ordinary blade immediately became ablaze with a powerful, dazzling energy, emanating from the gold ring around his wrist.

  Leaving cover, he charged the beasts. They unrelentingly charged back. As they advanced towards each other for what was an inevitable head on collision, at the last second Sean raised his left arm. An exploding light filled the entire room. Andrews monitor was overpowered by the sudden blast of illumination. He couldn’t see anything on the screen. “Coach, come in. Coach? Are you there?” he frantically asked. He watched the monitor earnestly for any sign of Mr. Stevens. As the radiation dimmed down, the cameras began to pick up shapes which gradually turned from blurs to identifiable figures. Four of the monsters had been pushed back to the pulpit by the shockwave.

  The reassuring voice of Coach Stevens came over the headset. “Yeah I’m fine,” he panted between words, “Over.” Andrew checked the monitors and saw Sean standing over one of the beasts with his sword driven deeply into its chest.

  The creature began to fade and decompose returning back to the shadows.

  Coach pulled the sword free. As Andrew watched the screens, he noticed a creature appear in the corner of the ceiling. “Coach Turn around!” he screamed. Sean acted on his words and pivoted his body. The beast launched itself at Mr. Stevens with ruthless aggression, but in raising his arm, his wrist began to glow again. The beast was met with an unexpected concussive force. The glowing light from the ring on his left wrist seemed to form a formidable concentration of beaming light that compressed itself into the shape of a rounded plate, forming a shield. Sean continued relentlessly and executed his downed foe.

  “4 to go, sir,” confirmed Andrew.

  Sean stood resolute and unswerving. Sweat dripped down his face as he wiped away the blood from his cheeks. The four beasts that were left roared at him in disgust, patrolling back and forth, trying to intimidate him. He was now at one end of the church hall with considerable space between himself and his opposition. After seeing two of their brethren defeated the creatures weren’t in any hurry to stampede Mr. Stevens. Sensing this he spoke quietly underneath his breath but loud enough so Andrew could hear it.

  “A.R follow my instructions carefully.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “On your computer, there should be an icon marked SP. Do you see it?”

  Andrew scanned the screen until he spotted the initials.

  “Yes, I see it.”

  “Good. Open it.”

  “Done.” Information and technical jargon flooded the screen that Andrew’s intelligence couldn’t comprehend. “What now?” he panicked.

  “Now do you see the bar that says Enter Protocol Here?”

  Again Andrew hunted the desktop until his eyes fell on the titled phrase. “Yes, I see it.”

  “Good. Click on it and type in E X 30:22-25.”

  He typed in the code and pressed enter. Once the computer recognized the phrase it armed itself. “Ok coach. I’ve done it. Now there’s a red button and a green button on the screen.”

  “Good. When I give you the orders, press the green button.”

  “Yes sir,” replied Andrew.

  Sean stepped forward slowly. Once in the middle of the hall he stopped. He sheathed his katana and threw it behind him a few feet away, followed by his gun holster. Andrew looked on in shock. “Umm, sir is that really the best idea right now?” Mr. Stevens remained cool. “Trust me,” he said.

  With no weaponry on his person, he proceeded to provoke the creatures to charge at him.

  “Come on you ugly ass pieces of hell-bound shit. Come and get me!” he gestured with his hands, inviting them to face him head on. The under worldly animals began to get riled up. He continued the verbal onslaught.

  “Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour. But really he’s a just big ‘ole pussy that sends his weak ass pets to face me!” he screamed beating his chest. This enraged the beasts and they all stampeded ahead with full velocity. Edging closer and closer Mr. Stevens stayed fixed in his position. Not even a flinch escaped him. He knew timing was crucial. “Andrew, are you ready?”

  “Yes, sir just tell me when.”

  The feet of the beasts pressed down heavy on the floor as they accelerated with murderous intent.

  “Wait for it. Wait for it,” whispered Mr. Stevens

  Pouncing through the air, the monsters lunged at him. “Now!” he shouted. Andrew pressed the green button. Simultaneously the chandelier that was located in the middle of the ceiling instantly triggered loose and fell, entrapping 3 of the coerced animals underneath it. The fourth beast retreated back instinctively with fear. Sean jumped back avoiding the impact. He re-equipped his weaponry and slowly walked over to his captured prey.

  The creatures groaned in agony, writhing in discomfort, immobilised by the heavy ornament impaled into them.

  “I bet that hurts doesn’t it,” gloated Sean. “That pain your feeling right now, that’s anointed oil. It’s leaking from the chandelier and making its way through your bodies. I’d love to see you rot in pain but I don’t have time.” He pulled a lighter from his back pocket and flicked on the flint wheel and a single burning flame appeared. He stood over his defeated opponents and muttered one single word.

  “Amen.”

  Then threw the lighter on them, sparking a roaring blaze.

  Howling in pain the shadowy beings melted into a black gunk which eroded away as the oils burnt through them. Mr. Stevens then re-established his gaze on the final hell spawn. As he approached, however the creature cowered back, returning to the side of its master, who had no sympathy or compassion for it either.

  “You’re a pathetic excuse of dark magic and quite frankly you sicken me.” He clenched his fist and the wicked creation exploded into dust. Slowly he stood up. Patronizing Mr. Stevens he applauded his resolve. “Well, I have to say, well done Sean, well done. It seems I underestimated your, abilities.”

  Sean stepped around the burning debris and approached the altar steps. The demon stood on the pulpit mocking him.

  “Do you think you can save him Sean?” he cackled loudly.

  “You couldn’t even save your own squad of men Sean. What makes you think you can save him? Hmm?! It won’t bring your fallen comrades back Sean. Their blood will always be on your hands, Sean. Nobody else’s. He is one of us Sean; he deserves to be with us!”

  Andrew could hear everything that was said. His mind was in turmoil.

  Sean stood in silence, leaving the demon to boast and abuse him excessively. The words had no standing with him though, for he had accepted his faults and responsibilities a long time ago. His expression was cold, lifeless. He raised his arm pointing the semi-automatic. Slowly and powerfully he commanded;

  “In the name of the Most High God.

  Demon, What is your name?!”

  The devilish entity let out a mighty roar which resounded through the once great hall. He proudly proclaimed;

  “I am a Ruler of Canaan.

  Forefather of the Anakim.

  My name is Anak.

  And I. Am. Nephilim.”

  He dived forward, changing form from a man into a monstrous black mass. Sean began letting off rounds in its direction but it weaved furiously through the air, av
oiding the bullets.

  “Come on Sean, you can do better than that.” The demon spirit taunted Coach Stevens as he kept blasting away. Suddenly Anak bolted forward vigorously, slamming into the chest of Mr. Stevens, sending him careering across the church and crashing into a wall. Momentarily stunned Sean lay motionless on the ground. Anak landed on the floor, resuming his human form. He slowly walked towards Sean.

  “You will finally be reunited with your fallen brothers, you useless piece of revolting mortal flesh.”

  Andrew looked on through the monitors, distraught that he could not help.

  “Coach,” he screamed, “Get up!”

  The increase in volume from Andrew’s voice caused a crackling interference that resounded through the headset into Mr. Stevens’ ear. The acute noise threw him into focus as he slowly dusted himself off and gradually got to his feet. Exhausted but tenacious he clenched his fists and took up a combative stance.

  Anak laughed, “Pitiful. You humans. Always resorting to basic violence, even in the face of inevitable destruction.”

  “Afraid I’ll kick your ass,” smiled Sean.

  Enraged Anak ran towards him and they engaged in hand to hand combat. Being physically weaker out of the two, Coach Stevens used his vast knowledge of martial arts to adopt a style that would pit Anak’s strength and speed against himself. The Nephilim attacked wildly and unhinged with pure hostility. With each blow thrown at him, Sean countered or misdirected and anticipated the demons movements. Anak grew heavily frustrated.

  “Enough!” he shouted.

  Sean bopped up and down lightly on his toes. “What’s the matter, Annie? I’m just getting started.”

  “You think to make a mockery of me, A Demon Lord! I will teach you, you insolent fool.”

  He started to wave his hands ceremoniously. His eyes blazed with a fiery red glow as his feet began to lift off the floor. The pale skin on his body began to crack and wither revealing an oily black epidermis with a shiny finish. It was clear to Sean that the demon was transforming into its real form. Andrew looked on through the monitor in absolute disbelief.

  “What the F…” He was frozen in astonishment. Mr. Stevens could still hear him in the headset. “Stay focused kid. Shit’s about to get very real.”

  Still metamorphosing Anak growled with power. Two identical horns appeared from his forehead, protruding straight forward. The modifications were completed by the emergence of two gigantic sprouting wings made of the exact same black mass.

  “Now you will feel the unadulterated power of Anak the Canaanite.” His voice boomed with amplified resonance and he began to conjure up dark flames in his hands. “Now you die!” he screamed, hurling the fireballs at Sean. Dropping to one knee, Mr. Stevens hid behind his shield. Anak knew the fireballs would not penetrate his defence so opted for a different plan of attack. He ceased fire, but instead began to hurl up black vomiting ooze in Sean’s direction. Using his arms, he navigated the dark gloop to surround Coach on all sides.

  Then by slamming his hands together in a clapping motion, the gunk rose up and entrapped Sean. He tried to fight back but there was too much and it overpowered him enclosing him in an orb. Mr. Stevens repeatedly smashed against the confinement but couldn’t break free. Anak raised the sphere into the air cackling triumphantly.

  “And now I crush you.” He clenched his fist and the cage of black matter began to shrink in size.

  Sean knew what was happening and tried to push against the enclosing walls of the trap but to no avail. His strength just wasn’t enough. He took a deep breath and it appeared he’d had given in to his imminent fate. But he paused and closed his eyes. Images of his friends ran through his mind. His ex-teammates, then Andrew and the promise he had made years ago. He scrunched down to his knees.

  “Lord. I made a promise years' ago to a friend.

  I can’t afford to break that promise right now.

  I know it is not my time yet. Right now, in this moment in time, I believe I am the only thing keeping that young man safe and I believe you would not carry me this far to see me fail.

  Isaiah 41:10 says fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

  Well, Father, I could use some of that strength right now.

  I cannot defeat this without your help Lord.

  Give me the power, if it is your will.

  Amen.”

  Andrew looked on through the monitors, terrified at how the battle was playing out. What if Coach loses? What will happen to me? he thought. Feeling frightened and desperate he muttered anxiously, “God please help him,” and lowered his head into his hands.

  Sean began to feel a warm sensation emanating from the 6 rings on his body. They began to glow vibrantly. Looking down at his arms he watched before his eyes as they became encased in splendid form-fitting golden scale mail armour. Studying his legs, he found they were also covered in the same material too. A breastplate formed on his chest which extended down into a girdle, woven from the finest golden silk. It had 12 precious gems: Sardius, Topaz, Carbuncle, Emerald, Sapphire, Diamond, Ligure, Agate, Amethyst, Beryl, Onyx and Jasper engraved in it. His wrists were clasped with golden gauntlets that had ancient Hebrew inscribed on them.

  Equipped over his feet and legs were golden boots with knee high gauntlets.

  The transformation gradually enveloped his entire body until finally the last ring placed around his head shone at its brightest.

  Rising above his skull like a halo, it manifested into a pristine gold Corinthian helmet, which covered the entire head and neck, with slits for the eyes and mouth.

  Feeling empowered, reborn and re-energised he placed his hands on the enclosing sphere, gritted his teeth and with every ounce of strength he had, began to push.

  Still in control of the black mass engulfing Sean, Anak continued to crush him within the orb. He was self-assured that Coach Stevens’ demise was at hand and expressed extreme glee in doing so. But all of a sudden the vindictive, malicious smile on Anak’s face slowly crumpled into a weary frown. The stability of the dark sphere began to disrupt.

  “No! No! How is this possible?” he screamed.

  Push after push the enclosed space Sean was in became bigger and wider. The edges became malformed and distorted as Mr. Stevens fought to free himself. Now with enough room, he grabbed his sword and thrust it through the top of the wicked monstrosity. The vivid laceration caused an instant beam of light to protrude from inside the ball.

  “No! Bellowed Anak as he tried to repair the tear in his symbiotic cage. Another rip appeared as the blade projected through again and again. Streams of golden light escaped the dark sphere and finally a hand emerged. Then an arm, followed by a shoulder.

  Finally, with an almighty roar, the mass of unholy liquid exploded and Sean emerged from the trap, standing powerfully upright with a new resolve and a rekindled intensity in his heart.

  Anak gasped in awe, “A-Ar-Armatura Dei. How? How do you possess it?”

  Sean pointed his sword at the Nephilim with conviction,

  “Not by might nor by power, but by my Spirit,' says the Lord.” Charging at him, Anak formed a sword in his hand and proceeded to attack. Mr. Stevens blocked every swipe as their blades ricocheted and sparks flew from the colliding metals. The armour enhanced his attributes making him stronger and faster. Their swords clanged and echoed through the old church hall. Anak swung downwards but was promptly repelled by Sean. They grinded their blades together, reaching a temporary stalemate. Face to face and pressing against each other with all their force Anak screamed at Sean, “You cannot save him and you know it. Your feeble attempt to keep him safe will be in vain.

  You failed your team once before, you will fail the boy and you will fail that overbearing, melodramatic, self-glorifying God you serve!”

  “You talk too much,” said Coach Stevens. He promptly followed with a head butt, knocking Anak unsteady
. Now with an opening, Sean took advantage of the chance he had created. Using his shield he thumped the sword from Anak’s hand, disarming him then spinning towards him he drove the katana deep into the devils stomach.

  The demon let out a resounding cry of pain and dropped to its knees. Hunched over he held on to the handle of sword impaled in his torso. On the verge of death and weakening, Anak slowly reverted back to his human form. Even in the midst of inevitable annihilation, Anak remained defiant. Choking on his blood whilst proceeding to laugh, he taunted Sean.

  “There will be more of us Sean. And they will come for Andrew. This is not over.”

  Sean removed his helmet and stood over him. His wrist began to glow and as he drew his arm back a sabre of intense light materialised. Anak coughed up a mouthful of blood and in one last act of brazen defiance he spat in the face of Coach Stevens. Undeterred, however, he wiped the ooze from his face and proclaimed, “In the name of the father, the son and the Holy Ghost, I send you back to the pits of hell where you came from.”

  In one swift movement, Anak’s head toppled down from his shoulders and his body fell lifeless. Sean pulled the Katana from belly of the fallen demon and sat down next to the carcass exhausted. Anak’s body began to rot and wither until it became dust.

  “Thank you,” he said looking up.

  Gathering himself and wiping his brow he checked in on Andrew.

  “A.R, you there?”

  “I’m here, I’m here coach.” Replied Andrew.

  Mr. Stevens gave him the codes to unlock the security doors and made his way back down the stairs. Andrew rushed out and met him. Sean was dripping in sweat and his face was covered in dust and abrasions. He stepped steadily with a slight limp, sore from the battle. He was physically and mentally spent. Seeing the physical toll Coach had put himself under, Andrew assisted him to the medical bay.