Rain pounded the tiled roof of the Ayala mansion, thunder rattling the windows as Isabella Fatima Ayala y Reyes groaned in pain, clutching the sheets with white-knuckled hands. The midwives moved briskly, their faces pale with urgency, while her husband Alonzo knelt beside her, gripping her trembling hand. His heart pounded as lightning cast jagged shadows across the chamber.
"He's coming… now," a midwife whispered, her voice almost lost under the storm.
Isabella gasped, her breath shallow.
"Alonzo… it hurts…"
Alonzo shook his head, trying to steady himself.
"I'm here. Just… just breathe, Isabella. You're strong. You've always been strong."
The room seemed to still as the child entered the world.
A subtle, unnatural hush descended, as though the storm itself paused in awe.
When the midwife lifted the infant into her arms, there was no cry. No wail. The child simply stared up with eyes glowing red, glowing faintly in the dim light of the room.
Isabella froze, pressing the baby to her chest.
"He… he's just a child…" Her voice trembled.
Alonzo's jaw tightened. "Yet… something about him… I cannot name it." He leaned closer, examining the infant, and for a moment felt a pressure, a weight behind those eyes that made the hairs on his arms rise.
Even in his newborn form, Miguel's consciousness stirred. Deep within, Cheon Ma, the Heavenly Demon, had begun to awaken, sensing the world anew, feeling the currents of qi around him. Though he could not speak, a thread of power began to leak from him a subtle vibration that set the room alive with tension.
Far across the world, the tremors of destiny were felt.
———————
In the deserts of Arabia, a caravan of imams and scholars halted as the night sky burned crimson.
One of them, an elderly Shia scholar, lifted his hands to the heavens.
"The Mahdi… he has been born," he whispered, his voice shaking.
The soil from Karbala, clutched in his hands, quivered.
Even the camels seemed unsettled by the unseen force pulling them east.
In Persia, Zoroastrian Mobeds rode hard across the plains. The Eternal Flame, housed within a sacred urn, flickered violently, then calmed, as though urging them onward. One mobed murmured, "The fire calls… east. He is waiting."
Rabbis in Jerusalem trembled as they read from ancient scrolls, visions of a child in the east etched into their minds. "The Messiah… he comes from the east," one whispered. Hands shook so violently that the parchment slipped through his fingers.
Cardinals and Patriarchs in Rome and Constantinople dreamed of a Star moving across the sky on a single point. When they awoke, they did not hesitate. Ships were prepared, horses readied, and emissaries dispatched, all drawn by a force too powerful to ignore.
In China, Daoist priests watched the Imperial Jade Seal tremble. Lu Bu's tomb, long sealed and forgotten, seemed to respond to an invisible pull. Weapons lifted slightly from their resting places, floating in the air as if beckoning toward the east. The priests packed jade fragments and ceremonial swords, following the invisible threads guiding them toward the Orient.
Even in Europe, Kings and Noble houses acted, spurred by dreams and portents that they could not explain. Their envoys carried scrolls, crowns, and ceremonial swords, treating the dreams with significance.
Unnaturally, all of them found a sense of direction to where? Manila.
By the time the first envoys arrived at the Ayala mansion, the storm had softened to a persistent drizzle, yet the night air thrummed with an unnatural weight. Guards at the gate hesitated, unsure whether to block these emissaries or bow before them.
Isabella stepped forward, cradling Miguel, and greeted the Muslim scholars in Arabic. Her voice wavered. "I… I do not understand your words. He is only a child."
One scholar bowed deeply. "Child, yes. Yet the heavens have spoken. The Mahdi is born, and your child bears the sign of red eyes."
Alonzo's brow furrowed, but he spoke firmly, addressing each envoy in their tongue. "I am Don Alonzo de Ayala. Why have you come? To bless a child? To test him?" His eyes narrowed, scanning the group with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity.
A Zoroastrian stepped forward, bowing slightly. "We come for him. The fire of Ahura Mazda burns before him. We bring offerings of flame, for even the Eternal Fire trembles in his presence."
A Christian cardinal's voice trembled as he spoke. "We have seen the star. The Star
is your child. We come to witness… to discern God's will."
Alonzo swallowed hard, glancing at Isabella. She could only clutch Miguel tighter, her wide eyes reflecting the red glow of his gaze.
"Why… why do they look at him like that?" Isabella whispered.
Alonzo shook his head, speechless. "I do not know… But I feel it too." His hand rested on Miguel's tiny chest, and a shiver ran through him.
Miguel's crimson eyes swept deliberately across the envoys, each face reflecting a tangled mix of awe, fear, and reverence. Though he was still a newborn, the consciousness of Cheon Ma—the Heavenly Demon stirred within him, fully aware of the currents of the world around him.
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, he raised his tiny fist. From it, a subtle vibration emerged, a thread of Qi that stretched outward like invisible ripples in water. The air thickened immediately, heavy and charged, and the candle flames bent toward him as though drawn by some magnetic force.
A low hum filled the room, resonating in bone and chest alike, vibrating with a depth beyond human comprehension. The temperature shifted, warmer in some corners, colder in others, as if the room itself were alive, breathing in tune with Miguel's Qi.
The Muslim scholars were the first to react. Their eyes widened, hands shielding their faces from a brilliance that was not light but a force pressing upon the soul. They stumbled backward, falling to their knees, yet none dared look away. The crimson glow of Miguel's eyes seemed to penetrate every doubt, every hesitation, affirming the visions they had carried across deserts and seas. "The Mahdi… he has awakened," whispered one, voice trembling with awe and fear.
Zoroastrians reeled as the aura touched the flame within their sacred urns. It flared violently, scorching edges of robes and hair, yet the flames obeyed Miguel's subtle will, bending and twisting as though in salute. The Mobeds pressed forward, offering the vials of fire they had carried for days, but even the Eternal Flame seemed humbled, recognizing the newborn's authority.
Rabbis from Jerusalem collapsed to their knees, their scrolls slipping from shaking hands. They chanted prayers under their breath, words ancient and half-forgotten, yet the child's gaze seemed to make understanding unnecessary. The Messiah had arrived, and all who witnessed him knew instinctively that this was no ordinary birth.
Cardinals and Patriachs of Rome and Constantinople fell to the floor, their legs betraying them, hearts pounding violently as though the Qi resonated with the very rhythm of their being. Their prayers faltered, and yet an unspoken recognition pressed upon them: they were in the presence of destiny incarnate.
Chinese envoys had already dropped to their knees, jade fragments floating and trembling as if alive. The halberd of Lu Bu, suspended in the air above its resting place, tilted gently toward Miguel as if acknowledging his authority. Even the Imperial Jade Seal seemed to pulse in resonance, a silent herald that the Mandate of Heaven now recognized the child in Isabella's arms.
Alonzo and Isabella themselves felt it akin to a weight pressing into their chests, a pull on the mind and spirit they could not resist. Isabella's hands shook, clinging to Miguel with the desperation of a mother and the awe of a witness to the impossible.
"Alonzo… what… what is he?" she whispered, voice trembling.
Alonzo's jaw tightened. He could feel the truth before him, yet words failed him. "I… I do not know. But he… he is more than a child. I cannot explain it." His hand rested on
Miguel's tiny chest, and the shiver that passed through him was not cold, but the resonance of something primeval and incomprehensible.
Miguel's gaze sharpened, and Cheon Ma's consciousness fully awakened. The room seemed to stretch and contract in response to his will. Shadows in the corners twisted unnaturally, as if bowing in anticipation. The low hum rose into a melodic resonance, echoing against walls, furniture, and the hearts of all present. The air itself trembled.
With a delicate exhale,
Miguel released another pulse of Qi. This time it was broader, extending beyond the room, subtly touching the gardens outside, rippling through the mansion, brushing the nearby streets of Manila. The envoys felt it as a tangible wave: the muscles of their arms and legs quivered uncontrollably, hearts pounded in a shared rhythm with the newborn's pulse, and yet the fear was tinged with reverence, almost worship.
The Muslim scholar raised his trembling hand. "Child… I… we pledge to guide you, to serve if you are the Mahdi."
The Zoroastrian Mobed bowed deeper, fire still flickering in his hands. "May the Eternal Flame watch over you. We come as servants of destiny itself."
A rabbi's voice quivered, breaking through a sob. "I… I cannot comprehend… yet I know… you are the one the scrolls foretold."
The cardinal, struggling to rise, muttered, "May God forgive me… and yet… I am compelled to witness this, to serve if it is His will."
Alonzo, despite the awe and fear, felt an undeniable pride mixed with terror. "Isabella… he is… not ours alone. The world… the world will never be the same."
Isabella's lips trembled as she whispered, "Alonzo… he's looking at them… at all of them…"
Miguel's gaze lingered on each envoy, his bright red eyes glinting like coals in the dim light. The aura pulsed rhythmically, testing, weighing, and measuring their resolve. The power he exuded was no longer subtle; it was absolute, undeniable, yet there was calmness in it, an assurance that this display was deliberate, a test, a declaration, and an introduction all at once.
The room fell silent, the storm outside now only a soft drizzle, yet the tension remained. The envoys, still bowed, sensed the gravity of what they were witnessing. For a fleeting moment, none dared breathe. Then, instinctively, each understood the weight of destiny, the certainty that this child was no ordinary mortal.
Miguel's aura flowed outward, gentle yet commanding, and the envoys instinctively straightened, still kneeling but more steady. Their submission was no longer fear alone
No- It was recognition, a conscious acknowledgment of power beyond human comprehension. Each one felt the ancient threads of prophecy tighten, reality bending imperceptibly to the newborn before them.
Isabella rested her head against Alonzo's shoulder, tears running freely.
"I… I don't know… But he… he is extraordinary."
Alonzo swallowed hard, looking down at Miguel with awe-struck eyes. "This… this child… he will change everything. Not only for us, but for all the world."
The envoys, still bowed, felt the quiet surge of energy that Miguel had released. They understood that this was only the beginning. Though he was small, fragile, and human in appearance, the aura of Cheon Ma made clear that this infant was already a sovereign of destiny, a force that would ripple across nations, faiths, and the heavens themselves.
As the night deepened, Miguel's gaze softened slightly, though the glow of his eyes remained steady, unwavering. The Heavenly Demon had descended, the first conscious pulse of his power now recognized by the world. The mansion, once quiet with the normalcy of birth, now resonated with the weight of prophecy, with tremors that would ripple far beyond Manila.
And in that quiet, heavy with reverence and the faint echo of ancient power, Miguel—cradled in the arms of his mother, watched over by a father who could only marvel—released a final wave of Qi, subtle but definitive. The envoys' hearts, their bodies, and their spirits responded in unison, a collective acknowledgment that the child before them was already shaping the fate of the world.
Outside, the rain had slowed to a soft drizzle. The candles flickered gently, but the glow of Miguel's eyes illuminated the room as if they were the sun itself. The Heavenly Demon had descended. The infant, in human arms yet beyond human comprehension, was already more than mortal. The world had glimpsed a fraction of what was to come—and it would never, ever be the same again.
Indeed…
The Demon God has descended