Everyone took a step back in unison. Silence fell over the scene, broken only by Beelzebub's agonized shrieks as he lay pinned to the ground.
"Michael's sword..."
The First of the Fallen considered this for a moment, then looked up at the sky. But the rift overhead had already sealed shut, as though nothing had happened.
Generally speaking, there were only three possible explanations. First, Michael had lost his mind for some reason and decided to start the thousand-year war between Hell and Heaven, personally taking the field to slay demons.
But if that were really the case, the archangel himself would have already swooped in at the head of an army. There would not have been such a long silence.
The First of the Fallen was not worried about that. They had all been colleagues once, after all. Or rather, most of the early demons had transferred over from Heaven, so they were bound to run into one another. Even if old Michael really refused to show any courtesy, Lucifer would have to stand at the front.
The second possibility was that war had broken out in Heaven, Michael had been defeated, and someone had knocked his sword from his hand. That possibility did not bear thinking about. Whatever it was, and whatever dimension it came from, anything capable of defeating Michael in Heaven was beyond Hell's power to challenge.
The third possibility was that Michael, like Lucifer, had decided he was done playing along with God...
Fuck!
Just thinking about it made the First of the Fallen want to swear. As if one Lucifer were not enough, now there might be an archangel commander too. The three demons of Hell might as well stop calling themselves Satan and settle for serving those two tea and waiting on them.