The night wind swept through the skyscrapers at the heart of the city, tearing at the frayed edges of weathered billboards. Beneath the dim amber glow of streetlights, two figures stood atop the tallest building — one tall, one small — both like mirages in a haze of fog and smoke.
Seraphiel stood upright, his black cloak flowing in the wind. He adjusted his glasses slightly, eyes fixed on the glowing street below. There, a young man walked slowly, shoulders hunched, hands buried in his pockets. His face was cold and weary — the face of someone who had lived through countless days, each one a losing battle.
Light from an electronic billboard cast fleeting glimmers across his nose and eyes — where something impossibly gentle flickered, fragile as breath.
"Is that him?" Aurelia asked. Her voice was so soft it seemed even the wind paused to listen.
"No," Seraphiel replied without looking away. "Not him. The Chosen One. Or perhaps... the Vessel."
Aurelia tilted her head, strands of moon-gold hair sliding over her shoulder.
"You believe a fragment of Malphas Viritas' soul could dwell inside a human?"
"Michael confirmed it."
Seraphiel's voice was low and metallic. "Lucifer planted a shard of his essence in this man. A small one — but still a piece of the Darkness."
Aurelia bit her lip, fingers tightening around her silver fan.
"But what if... that shard takes root in the form of something good?"
For the first time, Seraphiel turned toward her. The city lights reflected on his glasses — cold, and yet faintly human.
"That's why we were sent," he said slowly. "Not to destroy. To protect.
If that soul chooses the Light of its own will, he'll cease to be a vessel... and become a Messenger."
Below, the man stopped before a small, cracked building with a faded signboard that read:
"Hope has become a habit."
He laughed — a rough, hollow sound. The laughter made Aurelia shiver.
"He once had everything," she whispered. "A job, a lover, a family... now he has nothing."
Seraphiel answered without turning:
"Only in ashes does true faith take root."
The night wind shifted. A thin strand of black smoke coiled upward from the street, slithering around the man like a serpent tasting its prey.
Aurelia lifted her fan. "Lucifer has sent his scouts."
"Don't engage," Seraphiel said, lowering his sword. "Let's see how the soul reacts."
The man suddenly dropped to his knees, clutching his head, breath ragged. The black smoke seeped into his skin, crawling up his neck. For an instant, his eyes flashed crimson — then faded.
Tears mingled with the misting rain. His voice trembled as he whispered:
"Lord... please don't let me hate."
Aurelia froze. Her lips moved, but no words came.
Seraphiel nodded slightly, his voice deep as a distant bell:
"Michael was right. Sometimes, in darkness... the brightest light is born."
A gust swept through, scattering dust, leaves, and the wisp of black smoke into nothing. When it passed, only the hum of traffic and the drizzle remained.
Aurelia turned to Seraphiel.
"Do you think... he knows he's caught in the war between angels and demons?"
"He doesn't need to know." Seraphiel adjusted his glasses.
"As long as he keeps choosing what's right."
From afar, the sky flashed — not lightning, but a signal.
A signal from Heaven.
The two angels exchanged a look. Then they vanished, leaving behind only a chill whisper of the other world.
Chapter I – Continued: The Mandate of LightIn the great hall of Heaven, light surged like a white sea, pulsing with the heartbeat of the cosmos. In its center stood the Archangel Michael — radiant wings outstretched, his golden armor inscribed with ancient sigils that shimmered faintly.
Before him, two images of living light appeared — Seraphiel and Aurelia.
"The soul," Michael's voice thundered, "must not fall into the hands of Darkness. If Lucifer has sown a seed, I will uproot it."
Aurelia bowed her head, voice trembling. "My lord... do you mean to reclaim that soul?"
Michael was silent for a long moment. Then, with the weight of a verdict, he said:
"No. I will keep it within the Pandora's Box — a place no angel nor demon may touch."
"But... that is where even the Light has no dominion," Seraphiel spoke.
"Indeed." Michael turned, his wings spreading wide. Feathers fell like sparks of light.
"For there are souls that even Light has no right to judge."
Seraphiel bowed deeply. "Then... does that mean we must take the mortal's life?"
The air froze.
A golden lightning flash illuminated Michael's face — eyes closed, as though he too suffered from the words he spoke.
"Sometimes," he said softly, "redemption must begin with death."
Light flared, forming a sacred seal in the air. The command was given.
The Mortal Realm – Crossroads at NightRain drizzled on the glistening asphalt. Elias walked, coat soaked through. Headlights flashed across his face, revealing eyes full of loss.
"Don't be afraid..." a voice whispered beside his ear, soft as the wind. "It's only another kind of sleep."
He spun around. No one.
A car horn blared — harsh, close. White light split the rain. Time seemed to slow.
Above, Seraphiel drew his sword. The blade gleamed — a sliver of light cutting the night.
A single stroke tore through the air, the beginning of destiny itself.
The car swerved, spinning. A dry crash echoed.
Aurelia closed her eyes; rain mixed with tears.
Three heartbeats passed.
When the wind stilled, Elias lay motionless. No blood — only a faint glow drifting from his chest: his soul.
Seraphiel raised a hand. From the void appeared a black box carved with serpents and roses — Pandora's Box. He opened it. The light was drawn in, like the dying breath of a star.
Aurelia trembled.
"Was this... truly salvation?"
Seraphiel closed the lid; the glow faded.
"It's not for us to decide," he whispered. "We merely follow the Light... even when it is blind."
The Infernal Realm – Within the ShadowsA vast chamber blanketed in ash, endless as eternity.
Upon a dark throne, Lucifer lifted his head — eyes like dead stars.
In that space, a single golden wisp flickered... and died.
He smiled.
"They've touched my soul."
His voice was deep and melodic — every word tasting of ash.
"Michael and his angels think they can imprison Light within darkness?"
He laughed, rising.
Tattered wings of ash spread wide, and from them hundreds of tiny demons fell, crawling into the shadows like smoke.
"They've awakened the one thing Heaven and Hell both fear most," Lucifer whispered.
"The will of the human soul."
He smiled — a blade-thin smile.
"That boy isn't dead, Michael.
He's only... beginning to awaken."