Chapter 105

He managed to get rid of the police officers who, after long minutes trying to shoot his body, had the brilliant idea of getting into a melee combat. He was the best at that. He was a warrior. He had been created to fight powerful battles and had become even stronger when he was sent to hell. He managed to beat all the humans who stood in his way, and scared the rest to run away and leave the confusion to those who tried so hard to prevent their Creator from winning.

He fought with all his strength. There was magic in his body. He would be able to defeat everyone if he used his powers of illusion and confusion. He could make one kill the other, just with a look, with just a gesture of his fingers. But he needed to want it. That magic was rooted in that body, belonging only to that ancient and stubborn soul. He couldn't use magic. He didn't want to use magic. So he had to fight.

The world was just a blur. Just an illusory surface of an ancient time. He looked at everyone,