The Blade of Micheal, the angel of old and bringer of God's wrath. Has passed his weapon on to me, and set me on my path. The blade sings of the truth and what had once use to be. Now it thirsts for evil's blood and the souls to be set free. It feels perfect in my hand as it continues to shine bright. Given me the strength I need to win this hellish fight.



As I grip the handle
Of the red sword.
it illuminated like a candle,
Reflcting light like a Ward.

It filled me with new strength,
As I feel God's gift.
Looked the imps on the face,
As the edge was lifted.



Demon eyes blazed bright, as I raised the sword in my hand. I howled at the top of my lungs and took my final stand.
I stood in a sea of many, embraced by God's grace. Time to get it right and earn my rightful place.



I swung down,
With all my might.
Chopped his crown
With a single smite.

By hundreds they attacked,
And by many they fell.
Until the legions blood, pitch black,
Painted the floor of hell.