Previously on True & Lie
Ben's power turned the Guardian back into a tree, but not before its last words echoed like a curse:
"It all begins now… one mind returns to normal, five remain changed."
Weary and collapsing, Ben was urged onward by a mysterious boy who spoke of Abel's resurrection and the hidden truth of Heaven.
Carried through the gate by Rafael and Berzebit, the group entered a strange land filled with food and a golden table fit for emperors. But their arrival was not unnoticed. A woman whispered to her companions:
"Nathaniel is still alive… change of plans. Plan B."
Ben gasped awake, vision swimming. His body trembled with weakness, but the sight before him pierced through the haze: Rafael and Berzebit sprawled across the floor, pale and broken, breath shallow.
"Rafael! Berzebit!" Ben stumbled forward, panic rising in his chest. "What happened here?"
Rafael stirred, crimson staining his lips. His voice cracked with pain.
"Ben… listen… you need to know… what happened… twenty hours ago…"
His eyes locked on Ben's, and then—like a flood breaking open—the memory bled through.
---
Twenty Hours Earlier
The three travelers reached the shimmering waters, their strength nearly gone after three days without food. Suddenly, before them appeared a golden table, overflowing with roasted chicken, fruits, bread, and wine—a feast too tempting to resist.
Rafael and Berzebit rushed forward, tearing into the banquet. Even Ben, cautious as ever, could not silence the hunger gnawing at his belly.
As they ate, a woman entered with silent companions. Her steps were graceful, her presence commanding. She smiled faintly, though her eyes lingered coldly on Rafael.
"We have been waiting for you," she said.
But under her breath, she murmured, almost inaudibly:
"Nathaniel is still alive… change of plans. Plan B."
Berzebit, cheeks puffed with food, mumbled, "Hope you don't mind us eating all this…"
The woman's smile never faltered.
"It's fine. The feast was prepared for you."
She turned and left quietly, her presence lingering like a shadow.
When she returned, the table had been stripped bare. She stood alone, hands folded neatly behind her back, voice soft but unsettling.
"I trust the food was to your liking… Now, as you know, this is the second law after the first. And so, I want us to play a little game."
Berzebit groaned, rubbing his eyes.
"We're exhausted. Let us rest first."
Her chuckle was sharp, mocking.
"Hhhhhh… You don't have a choice. You will play. There are no other options."
She leaned closer, her smile twisting into something venomous.
"And trust me… it will be fun."
Rafael leaned back, sarcasm lacing his words.
"Trust you? We just met."
The woman tilted her head, unfazed.
"Ah, forgive me. I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Viviane. And I am the Second Guardian."
At her words, the table dissolved into mist. The chamber warped, walls trembling as shadows closed in. From the center of the floor, a throne of black obsidian rose. Viviane seated herself upon it, her aura heavy, her eyes alight with cruel delight.
"Before we begin," she said coldly, "you must know the rules. The game ends when your opponent dies. Win, and you will be rewarded with a choice: to die by my hand… or by the hands of my servants."
Silent attendants entered, each bearing a tall, black mirror. Their surfaces reflected no light—only a void.
Viviane's voice rose, sharp as a blade.
"The game is called The Mirror of True Self."
Berzebit slammed his fist to the ground.
"We told you—we don't want to play!"
But Viviane's gaze cut through him as if he were nothing. With a flick of her finger, Berzebit's flames sputtered out, his body paralyzed mid-attack.
Her voice dropped to a chilling whisper.
"I warned you—it is not optional. Last week, I was late to a funeral. Do not make me miss another. Provoke me again, and you won't live long enough to enter the game."
Then she laughed, the sound shifting unnaturally, twisting into the eerie pitch of a child.
"Right, Nathaniel?"
The name made Rafael's jaw tighten.
"Stop using that voice, Viv," he snapped.
Her smile widened.
"Ah… so you do remember."
Rafael's fury burned.
"How could I forget? Viv… the Angel of War and Manipulation. But I never thought you'd fall this far."
Her laughter vanished, replaced with venom.
"Shut up, Nathaniel!"
Her form warped, body stretching taller, radiant and terrible. Hair like fire, wings vast and brilliant, beauty divine yet corrupted. The chamber shook beneath her presence.
"The game begins now," she thundered.
"Each of you will face the mirror."
The black mirrors rippled like liquid shadows, calling them closer.
Rafael stepped forward first. The instant his eyes met the surface, the world shifted. He stumbled backward into darkness.
"Nathaniel… Nathaniel… wake up. It's time for the assembly."
A hand pulled him upright—Ariel, glowing and serene. She guided him through the haze, and before his eyes stretched a host of angels, radiant wings blazing like a sea of light.
"What is this? What's happening?" Rafael stammered.
Ariel's gaze was steady.
"We do this every day. In Heaven, we praise God without ceasing. And Lucifer… he leads us."
The name sent a chill through him.
"He is coming," Ariel whispered, both reverent and afraid.
The ground hummed with power. Rafael realized, with dawning awe and dread, that everything he knew—Earth, Merioria, even his struggles—was only a fraction of a far greater truth.
Time blurred. Lucifer rose and rallied the angels: "We are going to strike."
The heavens erupted in battle. Nathaniel—now Rafael—fought with all his might, wings torn, light burning.
And then—through the chaos—he reached the figure he thought was Satan. His heart froze.
It wasn't Satan.
It was Berzebit.
The battlefield stilled as a voice rolled through the heavens, vast and commanding:
"You shall fight your opponent. Only by facing him shall you pass. Only then will you confront your demon… and win the game."
The clash of angels fell silent. Rafael's breath caught.
This wasn't just war.
This was the game of life.
The battlefield shook with every strike, Rafael and Berzebit locked in a brutal clash. Sparks of flame and light tore through the air as blades and fists collided, neither willing to yield.
They had no choice—if one did not fall, both would die.
Rafael raised his sword high, his chest heaving, ready to deliver the final blow. His eyes burned with sorrow, rage, and confusion.
But then—
A voice broke through the chaos, soft and radiant, echoing deep inside his soul.
"Rafael…"
He froze, the blade trembling in his grip. The voice was unmistakable.
"Ruth?" he whispered.
Suddenly, the battlefield melted away. Rafael's vision blurred, and in an instant he was no longer standing in blood and ruin, but in a place beyond all comprehension—a golden place, bathed in light.
From the radiance stepped Ruth, her presence warm, her eyes filled with infinite sorrow and love. She touched Rafael's chest gently, and the world around him rippled with memories.
Images rushed before his eyes—he saw himself as a child, standing alone, afraid… until a boy appeared. Berzebit. He remembered protecting him, guiding him, treating him not as an enemy, but as a brother.
"You cannot kill him," Ruth's voice broke, trembling with both command and compassion. "Don't you see, Rafael? You were the one who saved him. You brought him from the depths of Hell into the light of this world. You raised him. You protected him. He has always been like a brother to you."
Tears welled in Rafael's eyes. "But… I…"
"No, my son," Ruth whispered, pulling him close. "You are not just an angel. You are not just a fallen one. You are mine. I raised you, Rafael. You, Ben, and Berzebit—you will always be my sons. Always."
Rafael broke, tears streaming down his face. Across the battlefield of memory, Berzebit too fell to his knees, clutching his chest as Ruth reached for him as well.
"It is time," Ruth said softly, her voice resonating in both their hearts. "Time for you to remember who you are… and who you are to each other."
A flood of memories overcame Berzebit. He saw Rafael shielding him from death. He saw laughter, brotherhood, moments of sacrifice. He wept, his body trembling as the truth returned to him.
The two brothers cried openly, and Ruth embraced them both, holding them as though they were still children.
"My sons," she said with a smile that broke their hearts. "You were never meant to kill each other. You were meant to protect each other. To fight together, not against one another."
Her form began to fade, dissolving back into the golden light.
"Ruth!" they cried.
Her last words echoed like a promise:
"I will always be here. Even if you cannot see me, I will always be with you."
And then—she was gone.
The battlefield returned, the mirrors around them shattering into nothingness.
Rafael fell to his knees, his sword still in his hand, but now pointed at himself. His voice cracked, heavy with despair.
"Then let me die. You live, Berzebit. That's the only way this ends."
But Berzebit shook his head, tears burning his cheeks.
"No… if you go, then I go too. We end this together, brother."
Without hesitation, both raised their blades to their own throats.
In perfect unison, they struck.
Twin cries pierced the air, and as their blood spilled, the game ended.
The Mirror of True Self shattered completely, dissolving into silence.
The battle was over.