Gershion opened his eyes, only to see something that made no sense.

A status screen floated in front of him, its glowing text faint in the dim light of my room. He rubbed his eyes, blinking to clear his vision, but it didn’t disappear. The numbers and words stared back at him, cold and undeniable.

Title: Angel Sub-Category: Non-Combatant

HP: 100/100

Strength: 1/5 Agility: 1/5 Sense: 0/5 Intelligence: 0/5 Skill: None Equipment: None

Potions: None

Store: Locked

What the hell was this? An RPG status window? This had to be a dream—some bizarre aftereffect of the nightmare I’d just woken from, he thought. But it felt too real—the numbers, the screen, the voice that had spoken to him just before he opened his eyes. He could still hear it, a whisper in the dark.

"Do you want power?" it had asked.

At first, Gershion thought he was imagining things. But then it asked again, its voice deeper, colder.

"Do you want power, Gershion?"

"Who are you?" Gershion had asked, confused, still half-asleep. He could barely comprehend the situation, but something in the tone of that voice made me feel assured.

"I am the shadow of the Almighty."

The chill that crept up his spine in that moment was unlike anything he had ever felt. The voice didn’t sound holy, not the way you’d expect something claiming to be the "shadow of the Almighty" to sound. No, it felt ancient, forgotten, and filled with pain. Before he could ask more, it spoke again.

"My first vessel was Lucifer, and he was killed."

Lucifer.

That name sent a shock through Gershion, like electricity sparking deep in my bones. Killed? The thought made no sense. Lucifer couldn’t be killed—at least, not in the way he’d understood from all the old stories. Lucifer was cast out of Heaven, yes, but… dead?

He whispered in the dark, "By who?"

The answer came with a bitter edge.

"By his brethren, led by Satan. They betrayed him because he led them into ruin, and now they suffer in the darkness, unable to return to Heaven."

Gershion’s mouth went dry. Both demons and angels had betrayed Lucifer? Everything Gershion thought he knew was confusing, a mess of lies and half-truths. "Let me show you what happened," the voice had said, and suddenly, Gershion's world shifted.

"Lucifer, you have fallen from grace!" Michael’s voice echoed across the skies, heavy with sorrow and resolve. His sword, gleaming with divine light, was raised high—a symbol of Heaven’s judgment. "By the command of God, I will cast you down from this place, and you shall dwell in darkness forevermore."

Lucifer stepped forward, his eyes blazing with defiance. "Fallen? Do you not see it? You call me the traitor, but I have been the victim all along."

Michael’s brow furrowed, confusion mingling with his sorrow. "Victim? What madness do you speak of now? Your pride led you here—your desire to challenge the Most High."

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"Pride?" Lucifer’s voice rang out, sharp as the lightning cracking the sky above them. "You speak of pride as if it were my creation! But tell me, Michael, where did this pride come from? If the world is perfect, as you so blindly believe, how could I have been corrupted? Who planted this darkness within me, if not God Himself?"

Lucifer’s wings flared wide, casting shadows that danced across the battlefield. "You think you know Him, Michael? You, who have never dared to question? You defend a Creator who used me as His scapegoat, who cast me down the moment I sought to understand the burden He placed upon me. Is that justice?"

"Enough, Lucifer!" Michael’s voice thundered across the heavens, his sword now glowing with the fire of divine judgment. "You have chosen your path, and it leads only to ruin. You cannot remain in the light of Heaven."

Lucifer’s voice grew darker, filled with bitter defiance. "And you, Michael, will strike me down not because I am wrong, but because you fear what I have seen. You defend a lie, a God who hides behind His perfection, unwilling to face the truth of what He created in me. Do you not wonder why, Michael? Why did I become what I am?"

Michael’s grip on his sword tightened, his face hardening. "You were given free will, Lucifer. You chose evil."

"I chose to question!" Lucifer roared, his wings shaking with fury. "I chose to seek the truth of what was placed within me! The darkness I carry was not born from rebellion—it was born from His own light, and when I dared to confront Him, I was cast out."

Michael’s sword rose higher, the light intensifying as he prepared for the final blow. "You have made your choice, Lucifer. We, who once stood beside you, must now stand against you. By the will of God, you will be cast down."

The vision shifted, and I witnessed a battle of unimaginable proportions. Heaven itself shook as angels clashed, wings beating like thunder. One-third of the angels fell alongside Lucifer, cast into a realm of eternal darkness. But it didn’t end there.

Lucifer and the fallen angels—Mammon, Asmodeus, Leviathan, Beelzebub, Satan, and Belphegor—were cast into the dark realm. But in the darkness, their regret festered.

"Why did we follow you?" Satan’s voice was a hiss, filled with venom. "You led us into darkness, into exile, for what? Your pride? Your foolish rebellion?"

Lucifer, standing tall despite the shadows clinging to him, was surrounded by his former allies. Betrayal ran deep—first by the angels in Heaven, and now by his own fallen comrades.

Satan, once his right hand, now led the charge. "We will not suffer because of you any longer!" His sword, once a weapon of righteousness, now dripped with vengeance. The other archdemons followed suit, their eyes burning with hatred and regret.

Lucifer’s voice, though pained, still carried a strength that made the shadows shiver. "You think you can kill me? I am not just an angel. I am the darkness itself—born from the light of Heaven!"

But despite his defiance, the battle that followed was brutal. The dark realm was consumed by a vicious storm as the fallen angels fought against each other. Lucifer, no longer the Morning Star, was outnumbered. The weight of their combined wrath brought him to his knees.

Satan’s blade was the one that struck the final blow. Lucifer's body crumbled, his essence scattered into the void of the dark realm. His once-mighty wings, torn and ruined, disappeared into the abyss.

But something escaped—something deeper, more primal than Lucifer himself. The Shadow of the Almighty, the darkness that Lucifer claimed was placed inside him by God, slithered away, unseen by the archdemons. It escaped into the light realm, waiting.

Gershion jolted awake, gasping for air as the weight of the vision crashed over me. His heart pounded in his chest, his head swimming with questions. The dream—it hadn’t just been a nightmare. It was real. Too real.

The voice… the one that had spoken to him before he had seen the status screen. It was still here. Still watching. Still waiting.

"I am the shadow of the Almighty," it had said.

Lucifer’s shadow. The remnant of the darkness sealed within him by God. And now it was speaking to him, offering himpower.

Gershion stared at the glowing status screen floating in front of him. This wasn’t a hallucination. This was real. And he had made a choice.

He had told the voice he wanted power. He had said yes.

Now, he wasn’t sure what that meant. But the words "Lucifer was betrayed" echoed in his mind, and a cold realization sank into his bones. Lucifer hadn’t just been cast out of Heaven; he had been destroyed by those who once followed him. And now, somehow, he was tangled up in it all. The voice—the shadow—it had chosen him as its next vessel.

But for what?

He didn’t know. But as he stared at his status screen, the numbers, the locked abilities, he felt something stir within him. Something dark. Something powerful.