Heaven and Hell cried out in painas both realms were stripped from time.
Divinity clashed against defiance,and the sky itself split open beneath the weight of creation breaking.
The cries of men were no longer prayers—only echoes of failure.Their bones turned to dust beneath collapsing light.
Lucifer's blade tore through holiness like silk.Every swing carved another hymn into silence.Wings of white and flame cut through the void, painting Heaven in ruin.
God's army staggered, their halos flickering,their faith collapsing faster than their bodies.
Michael's halo cracked.His radiant sword dimmed with every strike—each kill stealing a little more of his light.
The sky bled ash.Heaven's breath turned to smoke.
Lightning fell.Not from storms—from wrath.
And above it all,God's voice shook the pillars of reality.
"Hold the lines. Do not let the fallen breach the gates."
But creation didn't answer.Even His words had begun to die.
Lucifer stood amidst the ruin,wings dragging embers across shattered marble.His eyes burned like a dying star.
"You still don't see it, Father…" he said, his voice dry, bitter."This was never rebellion. This is rot wearing your name."
He advanced, and Heaven broke.Angels screamed. Demons burned.The battlefield twisted under the weight of collapsing time.
And through the smoke—he appeared.
Asmodeus.Silent.Unmoving.
Reality seemed to hesitate around him,bending like it feared his presence.Every soul—angel, demon, even the divine—felt the pull.
A ripple formed in the fabric of creation,spreading outward from where he stood.The Holy War began to collapse under its own gravity.Even eternity seemed to flinch.
Then everything stopped.
Sound died.Light froze.Even thought seemed afraid to move.
A pressure fell over the battlefield—ancient, suffocating, absolute.
From the smoke, Asmodeus rose.His wings unfolded slowly,dragging trails of crimson fire through the still air.
Every gaze turned toward him—not in reverence, but in instinctive terror.
He hovered before the Singularity—a sphere of raw creation, pulsing like the heart of existence itself.Its glow warped across his face as he spoke.
"You fight for gods who forgot what they created."
His tone was quiet,but every word carried through the void like a sentence being written across all of time.
"You bleed for thrones that don't remember your names.""You call this a war. I call it denial."
He spread his wings—each feather a blade of light splitting through the stillness.
"I have seen what lies beyond gods."
Silence answered him.Even the Singularity seemed to listen.
He raised his hand toward it—and the reflection trembled.
"If no god will end this war…"
His wings ignited.The air cracked.
"…then I will."
He shot forward—piercing the Singularity like a spear of light.
For a heartbeat, creation held its breath.
Then—
It exploded.
Light devoured light.Hell's fire vanished into silence.Heaven collapsed into itself.
The world screamed once—and then there was nothing.
Only stillness.Only silence.
A silence that began to move.
From it, something new took form.Something beyond gods, demons, or even existence itself.
And so it was written—
On the day Heaven burned and Hell fell silent,a single devil unmade the first world.
From the ashes of all that was holy or damned,creation took its first breath.
And in that breath echoed a truth that would outlive every universe that followed:
The end of everything begins with him.