A girl looked up at the blackened sky as a drop of dark water struck her cheek.
A strange sense of nostalgia washed over her.
She remembered her life.
She had been born in the abyss.
All she had ever known was darkness—an endless, smothering void that stretched beyond comprehension.
In the beginning, there had been nothing but her and the silence.
No sound. No light. No name.
She had never seen her own face.
She didn't know how long she had existed.
All she knew was loneliness—and the crushing boredom that came with eternity.
Until one day, something fell from the sky.
It was another being. A spark in the endless dark.
She hadn't understood it at first, but even without words, she could tell—it was dying.
Before its end, the being taught her.
Words. Meaning. Thought.
It taught her what a name was.
How to survive.
How to fight.
But all things die in the abyss.
When the being's body began to unravel, it whispered one last truth.
It told her its name: Satan.
And it spoke of light.
Of a world beyond the void—a realm of warmth and radiance.
It said, "If you ever reach it, you'll find Paradise."
Then it was gone.
For the first time, the girl was truly alone… but now she knew there was something above her. Something to reach for.
And so her journey began—a climb through endless shadow toward the light.
Now, the girl lay bleeding on the cold black ground, staring up at that unreachable sky.
She remembered her struggle—every wound, every narrow escape, every life she had taken just to survive.
Unlike the other demons, she had no wings, no fire, no monstrous strength.
She was fragile.
Mortal.
But she had will.
And that will burned hotter than any flame in Hell.
Now, as her body failed her, she could only think:
Is this the last time I'll see the darkness?
Will I ever see the light Satan spoke of?
Am I going to die here, after everything?
"No," her mind whispered—faint but fierce.
Something primal stirred within her chest. A flicker. A defiance older than fear.
An absolute unwillingness to die.
She refused to let it end.
With trembling hands, she reached for the demon's corpse beside her—and began to eat.
The taste was agony.
Her body convulsed as black ichor burned down her throat. Her vision blurred, her heart thundered, and still she ate.
She devoured the creature piece by piece until there was nothing left.
Then—something changed.
Power.
It flooded through her like liquid fire, searing every nerve, remaking her. It was alive. It was hers.
Later, she would call it MA Energy.
Or simply—Mana.
With this new strength, she could reinforce her body, turning frailty into steel.
She could shape her will into blades, armor, or wings of shadow.
She could fight.
And more importantly—she could climb.
So she rose again, her body trembling, eyes burning with new light, and began her ascent.
Upward.
Always upward.
Toward that distant, holy glow that Satan had called Paradise.
Toward the light that no being born in darkness was ever meant to see.