Metatron
"OUT OF MY WAY!" He roared with nothing more than pure hate in his words, the blood of the archangel spilled all over his arm as he literally clawed at her heart. That damn traitor, doing this bore him no satisfaction, none at all! Why couldn't it listen!? He swung his arm away and cast the angel aside like a rock, roaring in pain as he ripped her heart out. No, it wasn't him who was in pain, it was his world. His system, he designed so meticulously, so perfectly, over the years. Her presence just made the logic error more glaring, and the world couldn't handle it.
He had no enjoyment in his task, but he had to ensure Archangels did not diverge from their path. He smiled and cackled madly. Yes, yes! Of course! He still had time, he could still fix this. He was bleeding, everything was hurting. Why? Why? That's right. The commandment, yes, he couldn't harm another of his kin. Was he going to die now? Oh god, oh no, oh no. What had he done what had he done. He had to do this, had to finish quick. Then, he could transfer his memories to another one, yes, yes, that should do it. But he had to be quick.
His whole body was breaking down while the logic errors just kept accumulating, eroding him.
"Hehehe. I can still fix this. I have to fix this. Don't worry Asmy, it's alright. I'm alright. Everything will be alright. Hey Father, it hurts, are you watching? I've been fighting this for so long, now I will avenge you. It hurts, it really hurts. My long vigil will end. Hehe...hahahaha..HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
An Archangel's wings were a manifestation of one's godly power. But more than that, they were a tool of control, a path that networked them all to the same hive-mind. And as the Voice of God, he was tasked with its upkeep as well. Through paths, memories could be transferred over upon death, rendering them immortal and ensuring that their powers were not lost. They could entrust upon another.
Of course, not everything had to be carried over. He could place memories elsewhere, ensure that they would not be transferred through the network. Troublesome emotions and discoveries that could undo all of his efforts had to be purged. But he could not erase completely, only gate-keep them.
"That's right... this system was nothing more than a way to control others. And now, I have the key. Me! Hahaha! He trusted me! They trusted me all! So I can't fail them! I can't lose to a goddamn memory..."
The walls flickered, and the void of creation faded, exposing the inner workings of this world, this simulation of creation. The whole time, they had been fighting in an empty room. An empty room that was nothing more than a collection of machinery, cold alien wiring and unfeeling lights, the hearth of technological and divine power condensed. And he moved to the terminal, a gigantic computer. And he began to tap madly at its buttons, typing commands after commands in an attempt to salvage what he could.