A prologue of sorts....an Idea

Belac stepped over the fallen statue, glancing to his side. The city beyond was on fire, as it had been for years. A breeze blew past, carrying whispers of days long past, and causing the cloak around his right arm to flutter. His single eye glanced back at the building he was walking towards, while subconsciously rubbing the bandaging over the other. Stopping in front of what used to be the door, he knelled by it, running his left arm through the dirt, gritting his teeth. I may never march in the infantry.... He allowed tears to roll down his face, making the bandaging wet. ...Ride in the Calvary, shoot the artillery..... His right arm hung uselessly by his side, and twitched slightly, paining him. I may never fly over the enemy, but I'm in the Lords army!... The song stuck in his head, haunting him. I'm in the Lords army! I may never.... If only he had been faster, if only he had been...been stronger, then maybe, maybe they would have made it. Looking up, he looked painfully at the grave markers, torn apart now after ten years of battles and corrosion. The children, the families, all of the members of this church...gone in an instant, because of a Mistake HE had been a part of.
There was a slight crackle in the wind near him, and he dove to the side as a pile of stone was exploded. Reaching with his left hand, he drew his rifle, and took aim. With his right arm still useless, he had only two shots for this, but Redeemer had never failed him...never missed, not even....
He would need a lot more than two shots for this. Cursing his luck, or his foolishness, he fired at the first Demon in the sky, taking it down. He cocked the lever. Fired again, and another down. He dropped the rifle, and drew his revolver. Six shots. Six down. There were still twenty Demons in the sky. Sighing, he reached back and drew the sword from his back, and took his stance, vaguely being aware of shots in the distance, growing closer. A demon charged, and was split down the middle, another was decapitated, and the next a hole in its center. Sweat beaded on Belac's face, and his right arm began to twitch even more wildly. A High-Demon appeared, and smiled at him. Closing his eye, Belac raised his right arm slowly, and grasped the handle of his most deadly weapon, penitence. Lifting the rifle, he aimed it at the Demon, who smiled more.
"You will burn in the very flames that made you. Begone from this world!" Belac yelled as he pulled the trigger, releasing a blast powerful enough to knock him back a couple of feet, while taking out the remainder of the Demons, as well as the High. Putting it away, he turned to face the Men who had arrived, and hung his head, to hid his face from their leader, who he knew well. He remembered the times before.....