Hot flashes of memory leap through the mind of the broken man. Memories not all entirely his own, seemingly. Was he finally losing it? Delirium from waterless days and bloody nights? No, he thought, struggling to coherently cling to the visions flashing behind his eyelids. This is mine. My thoughts and memories are my own. It is no hallucination - despite the frequent occurrence of biblical sights, flashing lights, a mighty throne one moment and the darkest coldest bluffs of Hell the next. Was it simply the brain shutting down? Am I dying?

“Not yet.”

A voice. As clear as quartz crystal but echoed and swirling about in his head as if he had heard it in the bottom of an empty pool. He turned, and became aware of the sensation of his sight and turning all at once. It was a moment of consciousness within himself, realizing he had a “body” and could move in this state. Curiously, he glanced at his surroundings, which were as stark white as flat clean snow, stretching on. He could not determine where the horizon began and the ground terminated.

As if it were always there, a figure emerged from thin nothing. Flaming pihirrouetting concentric circles with eyes...eyes. Too many eyes. A sight that would have wrought terror from the seemingly simple man, as no man was fit to gaze upon what had temporally invaded his mind.

“You are the one known as Eginhardt Hoffmann, albeit as a moniker.”

A meek silence passed. What would it mean for him to die here and now? Was this some cruel divine trick? Was he to receive judgement for past doings unbeknownst to any but the holy watchers above, who had come for him now in his final moments? Fear wrought his mind. He scarcely registered the words the angelic being bellowed.

“Fear not. Refer to mine as the Seraphim, Uriel, for I am bringer of peace and knowledge through strength, and pass all to you as friend. This be no illusion nor trick of your mind, for it is keen to perceive one who orbits the throne of God; they who have chosen me to grant you the penultimate truth of your destiny at a time where you must heed it most. Your body is not one of divinity, and this we will correct; your blood hath been spilled, and will be replenished in due time, upon the full-”

“Wait just a damned minute.”

Eginhardt Hoffmann, he who had fought and wrought as “human” for some time now, was disparagingly unaware of any context that the Seraphim was attempting to pass. However, like any normal human, one would perceive a near-death experience followed by a divine being who appeared to be made of flaming golden rings, eagle heads and a giant eyeball to be a bit of an emotional whiplash - he required a more subdued chat with the divinity.

“You mean to tell me that God - Yahweh - is real? This is no trick or deception?”

“Nay, it is not.” answered Uriel.

“...Then why me, why here, and why now? In that order. Please.”

The rings rotated in place, as if pondering the questions one by one. It gave answer.

“You are but the vessel of a divine mission. We have had this conversation pass many times before, and surely to pass once again in the future. As with any divine being of such power, not under the immediate gaze of Yahweh, principality and the interests of He take precedence to ensure the safety and security of humanity. In other words; You are restrained for our purposes and your survival. A contract. Your memories are lost to time with each divine mission you carry out over the ages, and this is but one of many you have pertained to this Earthly domain.”

Giving answer, Eginhardt indignantly smarmed at the Angelic creature. He didn’t care for its tone nor the information it was passing.

“...So what you’re saying is I’m some Angelic freak, and you send me on suicide missions as a fucking time traveler? Yes, please go on. Tell me how I shoot flaming balls out of my ass next.”

The dry tone indignantly wrought a flash of divine fire from Uriel, whom did not desire to be so casually brushed off. He gave another answer, this time voice layered with impatience and prudence.

“Your garish attitude is well endowed for such a time as this. I advise you, however, to maintain control of your human, Earthly senses. You will need them in the trials to come.

Humanity has reached a breaking point. You have performed your missions well, and you have but one remaining.”

Eginhardt processed this information, as he had many times before. The figure spoke the truth. This innately felt...familiar to him. Genesis. The wars of old. The first humans. The Crusades. Swords, clashing. Shields, breaking. Body, weary and worn to worm food in time. A divine purpose spelled in blood.

He couldn’t help but feel the urge to drop to his knees. Any normal human would have long since been lost to madness at the mere sight of the seemingly miles-wide holy divinity above. Therefore, he thought correctly, he cannot be human. It is true. He accepts this, as one would accept horrible news in any other capacity - the stages of grief transpired through him, and Uriel sought to ease his troubled mind.

“You are of the true identity of Nathaniel, Flame of God. For though I may be the principal power of fire, you are the divine presence of fire on Earth, wrought to bind the will of God to parchment by blood. You have killed many, destroyed much, and in its place, built upon the kingdom of God over the bones of his enemies and the enemies of humankind.

I am aware you know of this fact, and that it is true and good. You are the deliverer.”

“...Yes. Yes, it...I feel it. But - why this human form? Why one of the bad guys? What was my divine purpose then, in the past? ...Why can’t I remember everything? I have more questions.” inquired “Nathaniel”.

“The purposes of God require your presence among humanity’s worst throughout the ages. There is little point to sending the agents of his will to those who are holy and thus free from sin. The Devil does not cater to all who are lost. He targets the righteous. You and He have done the opposite, thus the same. Myself, however, unlike my brethren, do not lend to talk, or peaceful doings with those who blaspheme the will of Yahweh. You, as I, would rather paint the rivers red and let God himself do the work of sorting the righteous from those claimed. For who is a better judge than he? None. The only arbiter of violence greater than He who sits on the throne is you. Upon them, we have time and time again ventured to clad you in armor, and grant you your divinity when it is needed - and upon the threat to humanity closing, you vanish. You alone, as the human-kind venturer with the imbued power of the Seraphim Uriel, and the intimate knowledge of humanity’s doings throughout time, stand in the way of humanity’s ruination. And you, finally, alone, are bestowed the sword to carry out this mission for its salvation.

It is true that, to perceptive minds as yours, this is little more than slavery. Forced to endure. No more shall this be the case. The final fate of humanity has...changed. Those created in his image wrought destruction untold in recent time.”

Hoffmann gave his response.

“If you are referring to the war...then yes. It is 20 years on. I still feel the heat on my neck. I still remember being a soldier, and now I know it was for the wrong side. When in Hell, do as demons do, yes? I and others did far worse. If you are divine as you claim, you have seen the bloodshed…

Then tell me, Uriel, what was the purpose of it all? Do you mean to tell me the Russian young men who I killed. Was that part of the plan? Not just them, before you answer. Any of them. What of the city of Judea? Did he not spare the city for if one, and I mean ONE among them was holy and just? I find it hard to believe that, after the bodies I pilled, you mean to tell me that each and every one of them in equal measure was deserving of their demise. Russian, American, Armenian, Ukrainian, Polish...British...not even ones I knew of. My own kind. All humans. I do not feel like this “Seraphim” you speak of. I feel human. I feel and do as they do, with their mannerisms. I faintly recall the other lives you mention, but in each, the result was much the same. I have grown fond of humanity.”

Uriel’s many eyes lit in equal measure in delight, holy fire blazing from its orifices.

“How right you are and how well you speak! Then you will know what I say next to be true; your reward is the just penance of your freedom. You are granted your divinity once more, for your own missions that lie ahead, until the final mission of humanity is to come to pass.”

Pondering, Eginhardt considered the words.

“And this final mission is?”

“...Humanity is not perfect. You know this. Created in God’s image but not in his wills, they were granted what we grant upon you now - knowledge, freedom. In one man, this is divinity. In many, ruination. A decision has been made. A reset.

In no uncertain terms I pass this knowledge to you, knowing you are the only one capable of carrying it out: Humanity in the wars recent have gone too far. They have strayed from the original purpose, and not even your interventions have gone far enough to deter them. A forceful means is necessary...therefore, you are to carry out the RAPTURE.”