Eons after Lucifer Morningstar had fallen, a similar day of judgment had come—a day another celestial angel stood on trial for his hunger for power, ambition for conquest, and, ultimately, his blasphemy against the divine order.
The trial was being held in the Supreme Court of Zion, a dimension of higher existence—like a monument of sorts, one made to the gods themselves.
The walls were like shifting constellations, and the floor flowed with nebulae and stardust—the air felt alive with tension.
Dust, ageless and eternal, drifted through the light radiating from thirteen towering thrones, each ablaze with the essence of a different deity.
At the center of it all stood Lucian, the Angel of Naught, so named because no title could capture the audacity of his existence.
He was a being molded of immense power and inconceivable madness. His wings, once pure white, now exuded a dark, suppressed energy—a glaring contrast to the holiness of the other angels.
His name alone was enough to inspire dread, whispered only in fear even among the celestials. Rumor had it that his power had grown so immense it unsettled thirteen of the fourteen supreme gods—a fact that seemed to only fuel his ambitions.
"Silence!"
Michael's voice, the Archangel of War, flared through the Court like a flame, licking at every murmur and breath until only the sound of divine authority remained. Most knew better than to challenge him.
The trial had gone on for decades, the heavenly jury carefully weighing every argument. In the end, they declared Lucian guilty of blasphemy and rebellion.
Yet, the jury's judgment was merely the first step in a far more profound and eternal decision—the true verdict would come from the thirteen supreme gods themselves.
"I announce the judgment of the thirteen," Michael began, his voice carrying the weight of inevitability.
"Úzen, the god of fire, deems the Angel of Naught guilty of all charges."
"Hybris, the god of stars, deems the Angel of Naught guilty of all charges."
One by one, the gods' verdicts echoed through the Court. All thirteen found Lucian guilty. Yet, it was not until their collective judgment that his fate would be sealed.
"By the decree of all thirteen gods, you have been judged guilty and are now subject to the wrath and punishment of Heaven."
A low chuckle escaped Lucian's lips—at first a quiet tremor, then maniacal laughter. The sound shot through the Supreme Court, resounding through the entirety of Heaven, even in its infinity.
"Punish me, then!" Lucian spat at Michael, shaking his chained hands in defiance. "Come down here, Michael! Or are you still trembling from our last encounter?"
Michael's eyes narrowed, bitterness flashing across his face. Lucian's taunt had hit a nerve too deep to ignore.
"You speak as though you won," Michael retorted coldly.
"No," Lucian replied, a grin splitting his face. "But I didn't lose, either. Eons ago, when I was far weaker, I stood against you—the mightiest of the celestials below the gods themselves—and I did not fall. Tell me, Michael, how will it end this time?"
The flicker of uncertainty in Michael's eyes was all the satisfaction Lucian needed. He turned his gaze to the thirteen gods above him.
"Or perhaps it is you who will punish me?" Lucian sneered. "Even you must have heard the rumors—that my power rivals even yours. Why don't we settle this once and for all? Come down here, and let's see if those rumors are true."
The silence that followed was aggressively suffocating—a void that swallowed even the concept of sound. It wasn't the hush of command; it was the universe holding a breath.
Not a single word was uttered. Every celestial present now contemplated the slightest possibility that Lucian had indeed become as formidable as the rumors suggested. The fear in that possibility was enough to terrify them further.
Lucian's laughter pierced the silence again.
"So, who among you will carry out my punishment?!"
His wings flared wide, white and luminous, as if to challenge the very heavens they resided in.
"Answer me!"
Then, a tremor—more a shift in the fabric of existence. The air became aglow with divine energy, and in an instant, the First appeared on his throne.
This being—it wasn't simply that he was powerful. He was presence itself, a force that dimmed the constellations and muzzled the stars.
"Silence."
Unlike Michael's command, this was not an order—it was a forceful decree. Heaven, Hell, and the entire universe obeyed.
All except Lucian, who dared to speak.
"Almighty," Lucian acknowledged, immediately kneeling, as all present did. "You see now—those you exalt above me are unworthy. I should be the—"
Before he could finish, the Almighty moved from his throne in an instant. The sound of his hand striking Lucian's face echoed through the vastness of existence. It was a blow powerful enough to destroy galaxies, to reduce entire realms to nothing.
Blood dripped from Lucian's mouth—a brutal reminder of who he stood before.
Lucian, who had never bled, now tasted crimson. He rubbed his carmine-stained lips, stunned, trying to remember the last time his blood had been spilled.
"How can you be so foolish, child?" the Almighty's voice boomed, resonating with the weight of eternity. "Do you think the hierarchy that has stood for eons is based on strength alone? You have become just like Lucif—"
"I am nothing like him," Lucian interrupted, defiance burning in his eyes.
"But is it not my throne you both seek?"
Lucian's fists clenched, but he could not argue against the All-Knowing.
The Almighty leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper only Lucian could hear. "Then you shall have your chance to claim it... but you will earn it from nothingness, just as I brought existence from nothingness."
Raising his voice, the Almighty pronounced judgment for all to hear:
"For your rebellion, Lucian, you shall be cast out of Heaven, into the realm of mortals, to live, die, and be judged as one of them."
"Father!" Lucian cried out, but his plea fell on deaf ears. The decree had already been made.
"Cease."
With that single word, Lucian was torn from existence—erased from the Book of Celestials and from the Book of Life itself. He simply ceased to be.
"Now become as I ordained," the Almighty declared—and thus it was so.
"I await your return, child."
–– ––
A woman made her way through the filthy, dim alleyways of Namek City, drawn by a strange noise. The closer she got, the more she felt an inexplicable pull.
At the end of the alley, she found a child lying on the ground, bathed in the neon glow of street signs—a young boy with hair as black as night, streaked with bright silver, and eyes of perfect grey.
Most striking of all were his wings—wings of pure black.
Startled yet intrigued, the woman stepped closer. As she did, the wings vanished.
She blinked in shock and knelt beside the boy, reaching out hesitantly.
"What are you, boy?" she whispered, her hand hovering over him.