The alarms blared through Area 51 as the beast tore through the reinforced walls. Fire erupted from its mouth, scorching concrete and melting steel beams into molten rivers. Smoke choked the hallways, filling every corner with the smell of ozone and burnt metal. Scientists screamed, fleeing wherever they could, but Ernest moved like a shadow through the chaos, precise, calm, and unflinching.
High on the ridge above the facility, Metatron arrived, his figure radiating a golden light that cut through the smoke. His presence alone made the fire flare, almost as if the flames recognized his authority. He held the sword forged from divine command, each edge glimmering with the weight of the laws of God. Yet as he looked down, he saw something unexpected.
Ernest, human yet impossible in precision, had cornered the beast. It was staggering, missing limbs, yet it still moved with lethal intent. Ernest did not rely on divine power. He relied on calculation, speed, and strategy. The bombs he had perfected over ten years lay in his hands, ready for deployment.
Metatron's voice cut through the chaos. "Stop it. You cannot control this. This is beyond your authority."
Ernest glanced upward, a slow, cold smile spreading across his face. "Authority is meaningless. Look at this beast. Observe how the laws you obey and the codes you cherish fail against calculation, intelligence, and precision. I do not need approval from above. I do not follow. I execute."
The beast lunged again, claws ready to tear through the facility. Ernest threw the first antimatter bomb. It detonated in a controlled burst, erasing the creature's limb entirely without harming the surrounding structure. Metatron's eyes widened. This was no angelic strike. No divine intervention. This was human intellect, perfectly applied.
Ernest chuckled softly. "I remember you. You are that unfortunate brother. You are the glorified one everyone praises, the one God chose to carry His light."
Metatron's grip tightened on his sword. "I am here to serve justice, to end the beast, to protect humans. I am an angel in the service of God."
Ernest's head tilted, analyzing him like a chessboard. "Impossible. God would never elevate a human to angelic status. Humans hold the image of God, authority beyond angels, and yet you cling to obedience. You follow orders. You believe in righteousness. You are a pawn pretending to be free."
Metatron stepped forward, his golden aura flaring. "You are wrong. I am chosen to exemplify humanity. To show the potential that humans can reach. You can still choose to stop this madness. You are my brother. Stop this now."
Ernest laughed, low and measured. "Stop? My brother, you misunderstand. Humans obey because they cannot comprehend freedom. You obey because God gave you power, light, and purpose. I obey nothing. I am beyond morality. I am beyond obedience. I am rational. And rationality demands I act, not believe, not hope, not pray. You think power is divine. I know power is calculation."
Metatron's eyes narrowed. "You are human. You have no divine authority. Humanity's image in you is not yours to pervert. The crown God promised humans, the glory, the authority over angels—these are not yours to misuse."
Ernest leaned closer, his movements precise and unnerving. "Misuse? I exploit, I manipulate, I observe, and I perfect. The world bends to what it fears or desires. Humans want good to win, hope to prevail, and love to be validated. I have studied them. Ryan, Sophia, Thomson. Every experiment catalogued, simulated, altered. I do not need faith. I do not need mercy. I need results. I am the inevitable."
Metatron's voice rose, furious yet composed. "This is not inevitable. You manipulate, destroy, and corrupt. That is not perfection. That is cruelty. You are abusing the trust of humanity, of life, of God."
Ernest's gaze softened, almost affectionate in its intensity. "Cruelty is subjective. Humans created morality to protect themselves. Evil exists only because humans believe in it. I remove belief. I remove weakness. I remove chance. That is perfection. And you? You follow orders, preaching obedience. You are bound, brother. You are limited. You cannot act without God's will. I am free. I am complete."
Metatron's sword flared, golden energy blasting outward. "I will not allow this. I will protect humanity. I will uphold God's promise."
Ernest clapped his hands once, and two more antimatter bombs detonated, slicing through the debris and remaining parts of the beast. "See, brother? Even the wildest destruction obeys my design. I do not have to kill, I do not have to conquer. Humans already bend. They do what I program them to do. I show them the path, they follow. That is power. That is intelligence. That is perfection."
Metatron's aura intensified. "Faith cannot be quantified. Love cannot be manipulated. Hope cannot be engineered. You will never understand the divine image that God has placed in humans."
Ernest smiled. "You speak of God, yet you forget the truth. Humans were given dominion, authority, and understanding. They were made in God's image. I merely take what is already there. I amplify it. I perfect it. You cling to faith. I apply knowledge. You follow rules. I write them. That is the difference."
Metatron's gaze hardened. "I will stop you, Ernest. You are corrupting humanity. You are abusing life. You cannot claim perfection while harming the innocent."
Ernest's eyes glinted, calculating. "Innocence is a lie. All humans desire control over life, over others, over themselves. They fear chaos, yet they thrive on it. I am the reflection of what they truly are, what they want to be but cannot achieve. I am rational. I am inevitable. I am the perfect human."
The beast, finally silenced and disintegrated by the precision bombs, left a crater of smoldering ash. Ernest stepped through the smoke, surveying the destruction as if inspecting a laboratory experiment.
"You see, brother. You prepare for divine combat. You study righteousness, mercy, hope, and law. You wait for approval from above. And here I am. I act, I calculate, I live without constraint. That is the difference. You are glorified. I am perfect."
Metatron looked at him, breathing heavily, his sword trembling in his hand. "Then I will have to be better. I will have to think beyond obedience. I will have to act beyond faith. You will not dictate humanity's fate, Ernest. You will not shape the future for your amusement."
Ernest laughed, a sound that carried through the ruins of Area 51. "Amusement? No. I do this because I understand it. Humans act predictably. They cling to morality, to hope, to goodness. I only show them what is real. They will follow, and they will obey, not because they are afraid of God, but because they cannot resist the truth of their own design. I am inevitable. And you, glorified brother, are merely a witness."
Metatron's hands shook slightly, his aura brightening. "I am not afraid. I will not be a witness to tyranny. Humanity deserves freedom, hope, and love. You may manipulate, but you cannot destroy the spirit."
Ernest took a step closer, calm and deliberate. "Spirit is observable. Conscience is programmable. Hope is reproducible. Fear is predictable. You wield divine authority, yet you are confined by obedience. I wield nothing but reason, and reason is limitless. You preach mercy. I execute perfection."
The air in Area 51 trembled. The remnants of the beast smoldered. Machines and sensors, destroyed moments ago, hummed back to life as if recognizing Ernest's presence and control. He moved without effort, setting micro-bombs, scanning the facility, cataloguing every human, every escape route, every structural weakness.
Metatron took a deep breath, eyes unwavering. "This is not perfection. This is tyranny. You are a human. You are limited. You cannot be what you claim to be."
Ernest chuckled, almost fondly. "I am what humans fear and desire, what they cannot comprehend. I am rationality applied without restraint. I am inevitable. I am perfect. And you, glorified brother, will have to witness the truth. You will have to see the world bend to my will, because I do not stop for faith. I do not stop for morality. I stop only for calculation, and I calculate that you cannot interfere."
The golden light from Metatron and the precise movements of Ernest created a surreal scene. Fire reflected in gold and in shadows. Destruction and calm intertwined. The battle was not of strength but of minds, ideals, and wills.
Ernest turned to leave, his antimatter bombs still active, his steps measured, his mind already calculating the next move. Metatron held his sword, watching, realizing that stopping his brother would require more than divine authority. It would require understanding, planning, and a will as unshakable as Ernest's.
In the silence, the two brothers faced each other across the smoking ruins of the facility. One, glorified by God, the chosen human, the standard of humanity. The other, perfected by intellect, psychopathy, and rationality, the inevitable human beyond morality.
Ernest's parting words echoed through the crumbling corridors. "I do not conquer. I do not destroy. I only show humans the path they refuse to walk. You may follow rules. I make reality obey reason. That is perfection. That is inevitable. That is me."
Metatron lowered his sword slightly, his expression a mixture of disbelief, awe, and sorrow. "Then I will follow. Not as a weapon. Not as an enforcer. But as a witness. I will understand. I will learn. I will stop what I must. But I cannot forgive what you have done."
Ernest's silhouette disappeared into the smoke and shadows, leaving the human, the glorified one, standing amidst the ruins, contemplating a world reshaped by intellect, psychopathy, and the inevitability of perfection.