Rentael of Eden, the Angel of Renting

Rentael smiles. “I stand in the presence of God, and have come to rid this world of demons.”

Dezechiel steps in. “Man, that’s kind of rude. Especially given how demons are, you know, fallen angels of sorts.”

The white-haired man smiles at him. “Well, for a fallen angel like you, it might seem that way.”

Hey, that comeback right now really hurt.

Fantastasia lightly pulls Deze by the sleeve. “Uhm, he mentioned being 34th of the 111 angels… by the way, what is your ranking?”

The brown-haired swordsman begins fidgeting with his fingers. “Eh? Ah, you know, I’m a bit of a special case, soooo… I somewhat stand outside of the ladder, I’d say?”

Rentael laughs at that remark. “Deze, you’ve sure changed a lot in the past few millennia. Even if for the worse.”

Fan-Fan hides behind the self-proclaimed unrankable angel. “Sooo… what’s his ranking?”

Rent scratches his chin. “Hmm, I don’t remember his place before he got cast out from Eden, but given that we rank based on how many wings we have, I’d say he’s at the 111th place right now?”

“Shhhh, you don’t need to say that part!” Deze hushes him.

“By the way, I have four wings, just to let you know,” the white-haired angel flexes his feathered back.

Fantastasia counts on her fingers.

“Sooo, an angel who has four wings is twice as strong as the one with two?” she asks.

“Oh, it’s for each wing. Also logarithmic.”

Hmm. She was never too good with math. But something tells her once fancy words like that start getting thrown around, it spells trouble.

“Aaah, aah, there you go again,” Dezechiel barges into the conversation, “flexing your wings. I recall now. There was an angel, lowest ranked of all four-wings, whose sole power was to rent the power of other angels. Truly original, ten out of ten, I applaud you.”

Rentael laughs. “What’s wrong with that? Sharing is caring!”

Dezechiel also laughs. “Haha, what kind of commie mindset is that?”

“I don’t know, Rent-an-Angel seems like a perfectly acceptable service in the eyes of God. Unlike, well, you know, that thing you did the other day. Renting a girlfriend, was it?”

“Ah, you don’t need to go further into that.”

Fantastasia pulls him back by the shoulder. “Naah, I think you need to go further into that.”

The angel of renting laughs. “Ah, well, you know. Poor old Dezechiel feels a bit lonely sometimes. You don’t seem particularly willing to scratch that itch of his, so he sought the warmth of… well, you get the idea.”

Deze curls his fingers. This nigh-omniscient chicken ass.

Fan-Fan’s face lights up like a candle. “H-huh? Warmth of another person?”

“Well, I mean… I always stop watching once things take a turn in that direction. GDPR and such.” The white-haired angel makes it seem almost trivial.

The flustered demon girl shakes her partner like a magnitude seven earthquake. “S-so you did t-that…? With a rental one, even?!?”

“Aaah, not this goofy renter wannabe making things sound ambiguous! I didn’t do shit, I swear!”

“You did! You did! Admit it!”

“Argh, fine!” Deze scratches his hair. “I did pay a girl to be my girlfriend for a couple of hours! Just once! And she even charged me twice the usual amount! ’Incels gotta pay double’ my ass! Don’t think you’re better just because people spend money to be with you!”

Fan-Fan steps back. Her face twists, much like her perception of Deze.

“Uaah, that sounds oddly sad.”

The brown-haired swordsman presses his fist into his temple. “Screw you, Rent! We were having a moment before you arrived!”

The white-haired angel chuckles. “My apologies. Should I stop by later?”

Fantastasia shakes her head. “Nuh-uh. Definitely not having a moment. Not after that. Not that we did, even before that.”

It feels like we just hit a three chapter character regression. The strength of Rentael is already on display, even before the inevitable fight starts.

“Well then, sorry to interrupt your childish quarrels, but I came here to exterminate that girl,” he adds.

“Oddly casual chat we just had, given that that’s the case,” Deze teases him.

“Ah, not at all! I just wanted to see how far my brother has come as a person,” the white-haired angel smiles. “Well, even if the result makes me want to puke.”

Fan-Fan pokes Deze. “You two are brothers?”

He shrugs. “All angels are kinda brothers. He’s just being really sleazy about it.”

Rentael looks at the Fantaschiel duo. “You know, you two really look like a couple right now.”

“Nope!” they blurt out in unison. Fan-Fan realizes that kind of makes them look like a couple and kicks Deze out of spite.

“What did I do?!?”

“Just shut up!”

Rent chuckles at the disturbance he just caused. “Well, apologies for that. If you don’t mind… let us start.”

The air around the three grows cold. In a metaphorical sense- it’s already pretty cold, given the fact that Fantastasia just covered over 500 square kilometers with ice.

The white-haired angel extends his right arm. “It’s rentin’ time.”

Uaah, that’s one lame ass quote. That aside, in his hand, a black sword appears. It looks extremely ordinary, almost so much so that it’s uncanny. A simple handle, a small guard, a smooth blade. No carvings, no ornaments. Just a piece of steel and cloth. A weapon to kill.

Dezechiel’s face spells disapproval. “That’s some really bad taste, Rent, using my old sword against me.”

“Sorry about that, I just thought we’d reminisce together some!”

With those words, he charges straight at the brown-haired angel. Deze manages to block, although he is severely outclassed- an angelic sword is, after all, better than anything he can get his hands on.

The demon girl circles around the intruding angel, aiming for his back. With the flop of his wings, he tosses her back.

“What a bad habit you have, striking someone from behind. Truly befitting of a demon.”

“In battle, anything goes,” she retorts, ice spikes striking at her opponents feet right from the ground he stood on.

Rentael merely jumps back with elegance, then parries a hit aimed at his neck. By one of his brothers, nonetheless.

“You know, demon girl,” he speaks while casually deflecting the attacks of both of his opponents, “I just wanted to show you what kind of person Dezechiel was before all of this.”

“Thanks for the kind words; I sincerely don’t give a fuck,” she retorts while attempting a cheeky stab at his crotch.

“Vocabulary!” he admonishes her, tossing her several meters with another flick of his wings.

So he hates swear words. Got it. Swear more.

“Don’t just go tossing my girl like that!”

Dezechiel has managed to get into his blind spot. From there, he tries for a slash at the angel’s tendons.

“It’s rentin’ time!”

Suddenly, his sword disappears. Rentael, now wielding both his ex and his current weapon, takes two concurrent swings at his disarmed opponent. Deze has no choice but to stop both of the blades with his hands, the sharp edges digging into his palms.

“Wonderful! Fast thinking!” he commends the bleeding angel.

“A little unfair to do that to me, isn’t it,” Dezechiel bickers, jumping back.

“Ah, sorry about that, I got a little too excited,” he apologizes, gently tossing the weapon back to his peer.

Unfortunately for him, Fantastasia is an expert when it comes to unsportsmanlike conduct.

While Rentael is showing compassion for his disarmed brother, she traps him in a prison of ice. The moment he breaks out, she’s standing before him, hitting Dezechiel’s original angelic blade out of his hand. With another turn of her spears, she’s aiming at a vital spot, her opponent haphazardly retreating, only to hit the ice wall with his back.

In the meantime, Deze picked up the second dropped sword, now charging at his four-winged brother, dual-wielding like a subpar isekai protagonist.

Rentael smiles. Everyone knows what’s coming.

“It’s rentin’ time!”

A long spear appears in his hands. With a single roundhouse swing, he manages to deflect all of the incoming attacks while obliterating the remainder of the frozen prison he found himself in.

“This one’s called The Spear of Shortinus!” he rants with an excited expression. “Owned by a fellow four-wing like me! If I recall correctly, Deze, you had a friend by the name of Richard, didn’t you? Doesn’t this remind you of him? Haha!”

“LEAVE RICHARD OUT OF THIS!” Dezechiel yells, striking at his opponent with both of his swords.

Spears have an innate advantage against swords. On top of that, his current blade just snapped- that’s how heavily outclassed it is right now. Oh well. Guess he is stuck with his ex.

Heating up his blade, he executes a couple of sonic speed strikes. None of them manage to get through the white-haired man’s defense.

Rentael jumps back. “Hmm, this is starting to bore me. How about we up the odds a little?”

He stretches out all of his wings, an orb of flame appearing behind him. The word fear begins engraving itself within the minds of his two opponents, consuming their entire existence. The angel’s eyes overflow with joy, a pleasure to have a reason to release his power.

“Be not afraid!” his tongue dances with bliss to the melody that is the shaking of the duo that stands before him.

Dezechiel glances at Fantastasia. The girl does the same.

“The reason I decided to fight you here today,” he explains, a wide smile decorating his face, “is because YOU are one another’s weakness! The angel can’t go all out because he would kill his beloved partner! The girl has to keep herself contained, for she would freeze her friend in eternal ice! On top of that, she just used her powers to a great extent; just how long can she hold out?”

Fantastasia reaches her hand out. A several hundreds of meters long ice spike grows out of the ground, trying to pierce her opponent. It’s of no use, though. Compared to before, it’s like a raindrop in the ocean.

Dezechiel drags her out of harm’s way by her choker.

“You’ll strangle me, you pigeon-brained fuck!” she curses at him.

“Listen up,” he completely ignores her insult, “we’re going to have to perfectly synchronize to take this one down.”

“And how do we do that?!? Not like we’re ever on the same page!!”

He gulps. “Just… trust in me. And cast some ice.”

The girl wants to say something, but only ends up nodding. She understands the predicament they find themselves in.

“Done with your love talk?” Rentael teases them. To his surprise, instead of a sharp remark, the battlefield gets filled with steam.

“Oya?” the white-haired angel fails to contain his surprise. He can’t see further than a few centimeters; this must be the work of Dezechiel.

A small thing saves his neck from being cut- the heat the brown-haired angel is omitting can be seen about a nanosecond sooner than his attack. But even an almost non-existent window like that is enough for Rent to parry the strike.

The steam doesn’t let up though; it only gets foggier and foggier. Another strike out of nowhere. Another one. He can’t tell the direction, but a new attack comes his way each and every time, always aiming for a vital spot.

This speed is almost on par with his. There’s no way he isn’t using his angel form.

But if he was doing that, his first target would be the demon girl. Intriguing, truly fascinating. Rentael isn’t the one to be mistaken.

He flaps his wings to clear out the surrounding fog. The next moment, he’s forced to cover his heart.

Their eyes meet for a second. Dezechiel’s glow with different color each- one with the golden orange, the other with a bloodshot blue.

The white-haired angel laughs while deflecting the death blows. “Ahh, I see! You put a curse in one of your eyes to prevent you from fully transforming and thus, losing control! How truly clever! Must hurt like hell though!!”

The steam fills the battlefield again. This time, Rentael is smart enough to instantly wave it goodbye with his wings.

The moment he does that, Dezechiel charges right at him, ready to deliver another blow. Rent thrusts his spear to keep his distance, but to his surprise, the brown-haired swordsman walks straight into it with his shoulder.

The tip of the weapon digs into flesh as Deze delivers a desperate warcry. Since he didn’t use his blade to defend, it is still in full swing, aimed at Rentael’s neck.

A gust of cold wind blows by as the panicked white angel notices a gigantuar block of ice, spanning several kilometers, is about to pummel him to death. Both the opponent’s sword and the massive cube aimed at his life, he’s forced to deal with each.

Rent catches his brother’s scorching blade with his teeth, ignoring the burns. With his other hand, he snaps his fingers- this single move sends enough force to crush the ice block into fine dust.

Before the opposing angel can do any more harm, he kicks him away with enough force to shatter another gigantuar cube. Dezechiel, the spear still lunged within his shoulder, flies off like a bullet.

This all happens in a second. Wings used to deal with the mist, one hand to deal with his brother, the other to crush the ice block, his mouth used to catch the blade and right leg to break free of the suicide charge, he is utterly defenseless.

The smallest opening the world has ever seen. Even the demon girl’s chest would seem bigger compared to it.

However, that single moment, an instance within an instance, the lowest tick of time worth measuring, even that is enough for Fantastasia to lunge her spear into the defenseless angel’s chest. Deze truly took one for the team to create this chance and she isn’t letting it slip away.

You could almost hear the anime opening playing in the background throughout that scene.

Rentael coughs up blood, observing the weapon in his abdomen with a surprised expression. This was not what he expected when he signed up for this.

Getting your stomach pierced by a weapon of that caliber is enough to even kill an angel.

However, not a four-winged one.

He smiles. This was the performance he had hoped for. And Fantaschiel didn’t fail to deliver.

“Aaah, aah, borrowing the weapon of an archangel would turn out troublesome,” he starts monologuing, almost as if there wasn’t a weapon dug in his insides, “but, how about one rank below that? I think she’d mind, but not enough for me to get chewed out too bad.”

“Huh?” She’s got a bad feeling about this.

Fantastasia tries to pull out her spear, but the white-haired angel won’t let go; he has already grabbed it with his left. Then, he extends his right hand, chanting the cringeworthy line once more.

Within his palm, a crimson red object appears. Its shape, eerie, nothing like what the demon girl has ever seen. The aura it gives off is making her stomach turn and the stench of blood is hitting her nose worse than anything she’s ever smelled in Hell.

That weapon is twisted beyond comparison. The crystallization of all that it means to snuff out life, a sword so repulsive your eyes can’t help but keep looking. It almost feels alive, its edge crawling underneath your skin even if you’re not near it.

A blade above all blades, the result and the cause.

“Hey, demoness, have you ever heard of Azrael? The Angel of Death?”

Chills go down her spine.

“That thing from before was a toy compared to this… after all, this is enough to slay an archangel.”

With a single strike, Rentael snaps the girl’s spear in two. She can only watch in horror as the next hit aims for her chest.

There’s no escape; after all, this blade is absolute. Whatever it cuts, it slices through, be it her eternal ice or the flesh making up her body.

Her life flashes before her eyes. Before she has time to let go of even a single tear, she gets shoved out of the way.

“Eh?”

To her horror, it’s not her that’s getting slashed.

Blood gushes all over her as The Blade of Azrael digs into the brown-haired angel’s flesh, ripping it apart with laughable ease.

“Hmm?” Rentael lifts a brow, perplexed by the sudden turn of events.

Deze smiles. “Hehe… Be more careful next time, you adorable idiot~”

A funny thought crosses his mind. That time he proposed to her for fun in Dentalia, he said he settled the score, even though it was like five-to-one. Well, this one should definitely make him the winner.

Eh? What is he thinking? His mind is a little hazy right now…

Nothing some rest can’t fix though…

The brown-haired angel falls into the sea of red he’s painstakingly painted with his blood. In the distance, he faintly makes out a familiar scream. A voice he’d hear everyday, yet never with such anguish.