Mammon – the embodiment of Greed – was born from the heavy darkness of the endless abyss, where everything was soaked in lack and hunger. From the moment he opened his eyes to the world, a constant cry rang out in his heart: "I am not enough, I need more, I must keep it all."
The things he touched, he held on to until he trembled, for fear that they would disappear in an instant.
On his first battlefield, Mammon stood among the demon army, his yellow eyes like a hungry man looking at every piece of weapon, every piece of soul, every spoil of war as if everything could become "his". But deep in those eyes, there was a desolate abyss – the fear that even he himself was just an illusion, sooner or later he would be taken away.
Facing him, Metatron – the angel of Charity – stepped out like a clear stream in the middle of a dry desert. A bright white robe covered her, her eyes sparkling like the dawn star. Her heart was a treasure trove of mercy, of the boundless love that God had entrusted to her. But deep down, Metatron always carried an inexplicable contradiction: she did not know how to keep anything. Every time she gave love, gave kindness, she felt a part of herself empty, as if more was taken away than she gave.
When their eyes met in that chaotic moment, the world around her seemed to freeze.
Mammon felt his whole body tremble. This was not a trophy, not a treasure he could take with his hands. But that clear gaze made him yearn desperately. "That gaze…so pure, so noble. I want to keep it!"
Metatron paused. She had given love to countless living beings, but no one had ever made her fall into a state of insecurity like this. When she looked at Mammon, she clearly felt the lack, the emptiness screaming inside him. Somehow, she wanted to fill it, wanted to embrace it, but at the same time, a fear echoed in her heart: "If I give it away, will there be anything left in me?"
Two people at two extremes – one afraid of loss, one afraid of losing himself when giving – suddenly felt their hearts waver.
In an instant, Mammon rushed forward, the black, fiery demonic blade tearing the air, but he did not aim directly at her. He paused for a moment, his eyes fixed on Metatron as if afraid she would disappear.
Metatron responded with a pure white light, but instead of destroying him, she let the celestial blade just graze his shoulder, creating a shallow wound. She was confused because she could not completely attack.
After the battle, when night fell, Mammon sat alone in the deep pit, his hand still trembling from the image of her eyes. He bit his lip and whispered,
— Why… why can't I let her disappear from my mind?
In the heavens, Metatron stood on the white steps, her heart heavy. Charity is about giving without conditions, but when she remembered Mammon's longing eyes, she felt for the first time her heart wanted to keep something for itself.
— Is this… selfishness? — she wondered, placing her hand on her chest, where her heart was beating erratically.
They didn't understand what they were feeling. But from the first time they met, both Mammon and Metatron had planted a dangerous seed in each other: a feeling they didn't know how to give, nor how to receive, but which made them burn from within.