Wrath squeezed me tightly inside its massive hand, making it harder and harder to speak. But he didn’t care. I stared unflinchingly into his eyes, not scared at all. I hadn't felt much of anything since that tragic day. Almost all my emotions were muted as if they weren’t even mine. All I had left was my anger and my pride. And with each passing day, my other emotions seemed to grow duller and duller.
As I kept staring into Wrath's eyes, mine grew darker and colder. Pride surged within me as I sensed Wrath becoming scared, like a wild animal trapped in a cage. He knew I didn’t fear him and that he couldn’t kill me. "You are a coward."
Desperate to regain control, Wrath tried to eat me. Why, I had no idea—perhaps to instill fear and gain more power over me, or to trap me inside him. If this was my future self, shouldn’t he remember what I did to the cub? The last time I was inside something, I shredded and devoured its heart. Or is he too stupid to even use his brain to reason that he shouldn’t try to place me inside him?
"Seeing as you are so confident in yourself, I shall see if you can handle the wrath and pain that comes with it," Wrath said, his voice seething. Wrath opened his maw completely, and I stared into the unending darkness. Not even my new eyes just kept saying error/false divine memory.
A false divine memory, huh? I wonder what that means. This is probably going to be very bad, and I shouldn’t go there. But I get the feeling that if I want to make Wrath submit to me, I have to enter the memory. And of course, Wrath had to chew on me like a dog with a bone as I went deep into the darkness. "ASSHOLE," So I yelled while being eaten by him.
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You have been taken into a false divine's memory. You must endure the torture and pain that haunts him to claim control of Wrath. Should you fail to endure, Wrath will consume your ego and memories, becoming the fallen version of yourself. If you can withstand the first memory, the second will be of Wrath's. Should you endure both, Wrath will submit, recognizing you as the stronger one. May the blessing of the Creator be upon you, young child.
A bright light shined into my eyes as I looked around to see where I was. I saw that my body was a lot bigger, about the size of an adult male back on Earth. The next thing I noticed was chains and a metal collar holding me against the wall. I was trying to make sense of what was happening when my new body started to move on its own. I guess I was just a passenger for this one. So, I was captured in the future and tortured. I wonder how they managed to capture me in the first place. This place doesn’t feel like something the demons would create. It feels more holy, like the angel that came into Pride’s Trial. Did I piss off some angels? Or is it some holy person that I piss off? But for now, I guess I'll have to wait until something happens to understand what led to this or what this is even about.
Entering through the door on my left a man walked in. He was tall—easily over six and a half feet—with a presence that dominated the room. His physique was powerful, muscles rippling beneath his gleaming silver armor. His skin had an ethereal glow, pale yet radiant, casting an almost unholy light in the dim chamber. His long, silver hair flowed like molten metal down his back, catching the light and shimmering with every step. But it was his eyes that truly struck me. Icy blue and nearly luminescent, they pierced through me, reflecting both divine purity and a cold, unyielding resolve. Those eyes were not the eyes of mercy. Sharp, angular features gave him a severe, almost statuesque beauty. High cheekbones, a strong jawline, and a straight, narrow nose all contributed to his intimidating visage. His lips were thin, pressed into a stern, unsmiling line. His voice was deep and resonant when he spoke, each word carrying the weight of authority and judgment. His wings, half-furled behind him, were magnificent and terrifying. Even though he was talking no voice came out. Was I not supposed to hear this conversation?
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They stretched out in a gradient from pure white at the base to stormy gray at the tips, a stark reminder of his celestial power. They rustled softly as he moved, a subtle but constant presence that added to his overwhelming aura. He wore a white robe embroidered with silver, symbols of purity and divine authority woven into the fabric. Underneath, his silver armor gleamed, intricately engraved with holy symbols and runes. A heavy white cloak draped over his shoulders, fastened with a brooch in the shape of a star, completing his formidable appearance. Around his neck hung a pendant, a relic that seemed to pulse with holy power. At his side, a longsword rested, its celestial steel blade glowing faintly with an inner light. The hilt was adorned with angelic runes, a tool for carrying out his grim duties. His presence filled the room as he stepped closer, leaving no space for doubt or hope. The chains around my wrists felt colder and heavier.
My heart raced, wait was my heart racing? I'm not scared, so... So this is Wrath's fear I am feeling. This is weird, I can feel the fear but it is just dull, only about a third of the fear is affecting me.
As the half-angel stepped closer, his presence seemed to suck the warmth from the room, leaving me feeling exposed and vulnerable. His icy blue eyes locked onto mine with a chilling intensity, and a small, unsettling smile curved his thin lips. He reached out, his long, elegant fingers glowing with a faint, ethereal light as they approached my forehead. The instant his hand made contact, a jolt of searing pain shot through my skull. My vision blurred, and I felt myself being pulled into a vortex of twisted memories. The half-angel's voice, soft yet commanding, echoed in my mind. "Relive your greatest joys and deepest sorrows," he intoned, "but know that they shall all become nightmares. Don't worry the effects aren't permanent but it only gets worse and worse each time I cast the spell."
I was helpless to resist as the spell took hold. My happiest memories turned dark and twisted. The exhilaration and wonder I had felt were now laced with dread and confusion. Friends and family who had celebrated with me turned into grotesque, mocking figures. Their cheers became jeers, their faces contorted into nightmarish visages.
Then, the scene shifted to the worst day of my life—the day I lost everything. But now, the horror was magnified. The pain was sharper, the loss deeper. The faces of those I had loved and lost were twisted in agony, their cries for help louder and more desperate, as they were skinned in front of my very eyes. The half-angel's laughter echoed through the torment, blending with the screams.
Each memory, each moment, was perverted into a hellish nightmare. The joy was stripped away, replaced by horror and despair. I felt my sense of self slipping, my will being crushed under the weight of the relentless assault. Through it all, the half-angel's happy smile remained. He watched my suffering with a twisted sense of satisfaction, his serene expression contrasting sharply with the torment he was inflicting. His fingers stayed firmly on my forehead, keeping me trapped in the living nightmare.
As the memories continued to twist and turn, I could hear his voice again, whispering, " Ah yes show me more. How do you like being my little toy? It feels good, doesn't it? I know it does for me." His words were like knives, cutting deep into my psyche. The half-angel's smile grew wider, his eyes gleaming with cruel delight. The chains around my wrists and ankles seemed to tighten, binding me not just physically, but mentally and emotionally as well.