At dawn, it was still dark.
The Lord's radiance became an angel.
He was the only light in the mortal world.
It was as if the ethereal chant of a church choir echoed by his ears, its lofty, empty, lingering melody endlessly resounding.
Sunlight slanted into the enormous honeycomb arena. Beneath the soft curtain of light, a pair of pristine white wings beat from the end of the clouds, spreading radiance across every face in the stands and lighting up the—
"Pah!"
Kurt spat viciously with a disgusted expression, shaking his long black bangs as he stood with his hands on his hips and watched his roommate and best friend circling through the sky before his entrance—"Angel," Warren Worthington III.
"You're always the most dramatic one. All this flashy nonsense every day—you might as well change your name to 'Fancy Butterfly.'"
He bluntly mocked Warren's entrance style, rolling his eyes high on his indigo-blue face.
The heir to the wealthy Worthington family had no other faults, except that he loved creating this sort of awe-inspiring ceremonial atmosphere.
Sure enough, quite a few parents of competing mutants in the stands were making the sign of the cross over their chests, gazing devoutly at the blond, incomparably handsome young man in the sky as he continuously beat his wings and circled gracefully.
Warren's father, Mr. Worthington II, proudly introduced him to the neighboring private box as his son, waving toward the air with great fanfare.
Whoosh.
Warren folded his nearly five-meter-wide snow-white wings and dove straight down, landing perfectly on one knee in the center of the ring. He slowly rose with solemn dignity, then abruptly spread his arms and wings. Finally, amid the audience's enthusiastic applause and cheers, he gave an elegant nod in salute.
"I am Ange—"
"Worthington! You flew