He trudged up the hill, his wings and the tip of his sword dragging on the ground behind him. The war raged for centuries, but this was the final battle. As Michael reached the top, his eyes were still looking down at his boots and his worn armor. He was drenched with sweat and it took a moment for him to regain his breath.
Then, he felt the eyes of the soldiers all around him — the angels of his army. They all drew silent when they saw what he was carrying. In his left hand, he held up the head of the dragon, Satan, the leader of the evil hordes. The head was as big as half Michael’s body, with long crooked horns and a dead tongue hanging from its mouth.
Michael raised his eyes to look at the head of the beast, and then he felt something rise in him. An energy. An elation. He finally had his victory, claimed in the Lord’s name. Like David beheading Goliath. Like Jesus beating death. This was the Lord’s victory, and it was glorious and beautiful. Michael screamed with both rage and joy, and his voice could be heard throughout all Heaven.
The angels joined in the chorus.
“YEEEEEEAAAAAAAAA!” they shouted.
“GLORY BE TO GOD AND HIS RIGHTEOUS SON AND HOLY SPIRIT! FOR THEY HAVE VICTORY FOR ALL ETERNITY.”
Michael dropped the dragon’s head coldly to the ground then, and pierced it through with his sword one last time. He left his weapon there in the head of the beast. He would need his sword no more.