Their defensive wards were breached. Their armies were dispersed. Their leaders were terminated. The process was…efficient.” Azrael spoke, his voice a low, resonant hum that seemed to vibrate through the very air. He stood before Uriel, his wings, usually a cascade of shimmering light, now held still, their edges dark and sharp.

Uriel, normally a beacon of warmth and radiant energy, was still, his golden eyes fixed on Azrael. “Efficient?” he echoed, the word a thin, brittle thing. “Is that how you describe the…the annihilation?”

Azrael tilted his head, a gesture that, on a human, might have been considered curious. “Annihilation is a loaded term. I prefer…resolution. The variables were identified, the optimal vectors of destruction calculated, and the plan executed. The outcome was predictable.”
“Predictable?” Uriel’s voice rose, a flicker of anger sparking in his eyes. “You speak of them as if they were equations, not…beings.”

“They ceased to be beings the moment they threatened the balance,” Azrael replied, his voice unwavering. “Their existence was a contagion, a sickness that needed to be purged. I merely acted as the…antiseptic.”

He raised a hand, and a shimmering image flickered into existence between them. It was a panorama of what had once been a thriving city, now a desolate wasteland of shattered spires and smoking ruins. The air was thick with spectral afterimages, the faint, lingering echoes of screams.

“Their cities,” Uriel whispered, his voice heavy with sorrow. “Their people…”
“Their ambition,” Azrael interrupted, the image shifting to show a council chamber, its members now reduced to dust and fragments of bone. “Their arrogance. They sought to usurp the divine order, to rewrite the very laws of creation. They left me no choice.”

The image dissolved, replaced by another, this one depicting a battlefield strewn with the broken forms of angelic warriors. “Even those who were once of the light?” Uriel asked, his voice strained. “Even them?”
“Especially them,” Azrael said, his voice cold. “They were the most dangerous. They knew the language of the heavens, the secrets of creation. They twisted that knowledge, corrupted it. I removed the infection before it could spread further.”

“You speak of infection,” Uriel said, his eyes narrowing. “But I see only…emptiness. A void where life once thrived. A silence that screams of loss.”

Azrael turned his gaze towards Uriel, his eyes, usually a reflection of starlight, now as dark and fathomless as the abyss. “Loss is a necessary consequence of order. Chaos breeds destruction, and destruction breeds…this.” He gestured towards the phantom city, the silent battlefield.

“But was there no other way?” Uriel pleaded, his voice filled with a desperate hope. “No alternative to this…utter devastation?”

Azrael’s wings shifted, a barely perceptible movement that sent a ripple of darkness through the room. “There was a choice,” he said, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. “They chose poorly.”

“And you,” Uriel asked, his voice barely audible, “you feel nothing?”

Azrael paused, his gaze drifting to the empty spaces where life had once been. “I feel…completion. The task is finished. The balance is restored. The process was similar to removing an infection from a host. Complete removal.” He turned away, his wings unfurling, the darkness at their edges receding, replaced by a cold, distant light. “Now, there are other matters to attend to.”

He stepped away, his form fading into the shadows, leaving Uriel alone in the echoing silence, a silence that spoke volumes of the terrible power Azrael had unleashed. The silence of absolute, complete destruction.