I knew of a legend passed down in every country on this continent. It was a legend of the Angel of Light. A winged being who travelled the world with only His sword, cutting through evil and banishing them all to an unknown world.
It was only today that I realised how true that legend was. It was simply a twist of what was true and real. A manifestation of deception, placed where it would least be suspected — right before our very eyes.
[ When one life ends, another one begins. ]
I kept my eyes tightly shut, refusing to let the beautiful light of the sun blind me any further. I allowed myself to drown in the lives of others; each one, terribly short-lived. One particular life piqued my interest. A mere fleeting glance was all it took for me to identify how ancient this life had been. It was like unearthing a piece of the past through dream and hallucination. In front of me lay a wounded body of a man with wings, dirtied by the soil of a raging storm. I heard words sprout from my lips, and watched as a pair of small, dainty hands nudged at the angel's body. To my surprise, however, the boy's skin was anything but normal.
A crimson red and scales of serpentine fashion. Draped upon a child's physique as if the Gods simply clicked "random" as they went along, crafting life and executing death. The scales had no beauty to them. No uniformity nor multicoloured sheen. It was a deformed and mangled image.
The sign of a tortured soul.
Oh, how the Eye would despise such a being...
It dawned on me then, as the angel's eyes fluttered open — with golden irises staring right at me — that the life I was currently gazing through, was the life of a Forgotten.
The antithesis of Legends.
...
"Sir?"
[ The Devil never started out evil. ]
In the flickering consciousness of the wounded angel, the small voice seemed distant, yet piercing. It was as if the very words carved through the void of suffering that clouded the angel's mind. The golden eyes focused, narrowing on the being before him, scrutinising its form.
"Sir?" The Devil repeated. The voice was small, almost drowned out by the raging winds.
The angel blinked, letting the harsh realities of this torn world come into focus. His gaze only then truly locked onto the child before him, a mass contradiction of innocence and monstrosity. His expression warped into one of disgust.
"Have I died and been reborn in some cruel jest?" murmured the angel, clicking his tongue.
"I—Is everything alright, Sir?" The Devil stepped closer to the angel, curious of the winged thing in front of him.
"I am not your sir," the angel finally replied, his voice hoarse as if he hadn't spoken for eons. A tremor coursed through his body as he hauled himself up.
His wings, though majestic in their span, were battered and torn, feathers amiss, revealing the bleak and pained struggles that flayed him alive. The Devil watched with wide eyes, the scales on his face catching the dim light that sifted through the heavy clouds. It was an unexpected ray of light, cutting through the storm to fall upon the duo.
Fate's cruel pranks.
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"You are some kind of morbid anomaly," the angel stated, a mix of wonder and abhorrence was apparent in his tone.
"Therefore, I will give you a purpose. Your pitiful life will have more meaning than a silent death alone in this forsaken world." The angel smirked with disdain. "Consider it a gift and be grateful for my own benevolence."
The Devil then found a sword of light piercing through his heart. His emotions were magnified just moments before blood erupted from his throat.
As the Devil choked on the crimson betrayal, his eyes, a mirror of bewilderment and agony, remained locked onto the angel. Glinting with a jarring curiousity. The sword of light, an ethereal blade that transcended material form, began to dissolve within him – not to draw blood but to transform it. The Devil's small frame convulsed,
"Y-You..."
I watched as the Devil grew his own pair of wings, ominous and menacing, yet feathered like the angel before him. It was a kind of majestic malevolence, a manifestation of the angel's cruel gift.
Just as the Devil began to lose consciousness, the angel whispered in his ear.
"Go forth and devour the evil of this world. Embody harm, corruption, and havoc. You will be the bastard son of the Gods, with no other purpose than to finally die at my hands."
...
The visions ended there, shifting into yet another life for me to gaze through. I continued to watch with my eyes closed. The world around me had slowed to a nigh-standstill, allowing me to glimpse through years and decades. Life after life flashed through my eyes, and I could feel myself growing weary.
There was only so much pity that I could give out.
There was only so much suffering that I could perceive.
Through the eyes of the tormented crowd, I was able to hear of the feud between the Devil and the angel — now endowed with the title, Angel of Light. The people's saviour and a master of righteousness. Their war lasted for years, creating a divide so prominent, two separate realities began to form. Evil lay just beneath the surface of the calm sea. Churning with whatever amalgamation it had become.
The blood of innocents were spilled en masse. Cities were burned to the ground. Lives were reduced to ashes.
Yet no human in this era had any fear.
They always had hope.
A hope that they too, would be saved.
That the Angel of Light would arrive before them and split the world in two.
"The Angel of Light! The angel is here! Everyone, let us pay our respects!"
They would clamour with joy, singing praises with smiles on their faces.
"Humans..." The Angel of Light would scan the crowd before him. His eyes were void of any benevolence. Only a sheer killing intent could be seen flashing within its depths. "Only half of you will be allowed into the world of the Gods. Spare me the effort and divide yourselves."
The Devil he created had gone terribly beyond his expectations. Even he no longer knew which of humanity had been tainted with his marks. The only way to filter those whose intentions were venomous was to bring each man, each woman, and each child before the precipice of eternal damnation.
Threaten them.
Doom them to a world much worse than this.
The crowd thus grew chaotic. Many were desperate for a better life, grasping at every opportunity. They brought harm to their own family members, tearing at the skin of their own kin just to make it to the side deemed to be good. People were thrown overhead simply because they stood in another's way.
The angel's eyes flashed. He had seen all that he needed to see. Thus, he slashed through with one fatal swoop, dividing the world into two and banishing those tainted with darkness into a hellscape of his creation.
Thankful were those who were left behind. They vowed then, to be ever-faithful to the Gods above.
No matter what.
...
I did not know for how long I had lingered outside of the city walls. My eyes had been closed for hours, maybe days. Yet I did not hunger for food nor thirst for drink. When the warm light of the sun returned to pierce into my gaze, I had grown into a different person.
I was a witness to lifetimes of torment and suffering. Of conflicts of good and evil. Even the wisdom of my past life could not fathom just what I had seen.
Perhaps my sanity had long fallen from the cliffs of stability, silently meeting its own end. The calm that others could see as I trudged back into the capital could be nothing but a façade.
"This world is a prison called 'Paradise'." I muttered
A sigh sifted past my lips.
Were the Heroes supposed to save this world? A shock coursed through my spine, sending a glacial shiver spreading throughout my body.
"What was that?"
I felt a gaze pass over the area, like a blanket of death. It seemed to have been looking for something. Alerted by an utterance so careless and blasphemous. It had been searching for me.
Yet it seemed like it could not find me.
Why was that?
No...
It seemed like even those around me could no longer sense my existence.
"What the hell is going on?"