The creator has always been fond of simple solutions to complex problems.
Perhaps that's why, after eons of managing a universe that seemed determined to tear itself apart at the seams. He decided to retirement looked rather appealing. Not death, can such an omnipotent existence even die? This was more akin to a cosmic early retirement, completely with the sort of estate planning that would make lawyers weep with envy.
The will, when finally read in the crystalline chamberyof the Eternal Court, was refreshingly brief for a document that would reshape reality itself:
To my sons, whom I have loved equally and tormented in return, I leave this universe as your inheritance. But know this, I am no fool and I will not watch you squabble like children over toys. You must prove your philosophies holds greater sway over creation itself. The one who can tip the balance of mortal influence decisively in their favor shall inherit it all. The other... Well, perhaps they'll find meaning in gracious defeat.
The divine brothers had received this news with all the enthusiasm one might expect from siblings suddenly informed they'd have to share inheritance. Which is to say, not well at all.
God- whose name was something far more complex and beautiful than any mortal tongues could manage to speak- stood in his palace of impossible geometries, gazing down at the small blue green marble that had become the crux of their cosmic competition. Earth, such a tiny thing to hold such enormous consequences. The morals scurrying about its surface had no idea that every act of kindness, every moment of forgiveness, every prayer whispered into the darkness was ammunition in a war that spanned dimensions.
His brother, Satan- who had always preferred his chosen name to the melodious syllables their Father had bestowed upon him - paced the obsidian halls of his own domain with considerably less contemplative serenity. Where God saw Earth as a delicate scale requiring careful influence, Satan saw it as a battlefield crying for bold action. Every act of rebellion, every passionate embrace of chaos, every soul that chose the the difficulty with of absolute freedom was a victory worth savouring.
Between them, suspended in the metaphysical space that existed neither in Heaven nor Hell but somehow touched both, hung the Coin.
It was not really a coin, of course. The Creator had simply found that particular metaphor assuming, and when you're omnipotent , your sense of humour tends to become reality whether anyone else appreciates the joke or not. In truth, it was a manifestation of universal balance, a crystalline construct that reflected the collective weight of mortal choices. When acts of divine order occurred on Earth- charity, structured faith, the coin tilded towards God's influence, sending ripples of Seraphic Power cascading through the celestial realms. When mortal chose passionate chaos- rebellion, untamed freedom, the beautiful destruction of unjust systems, it swayed towards Satan, unleashing waves of Tempestuous energy.
But here's where the Creator's plan revealed it's most delicious irony: perfect balance meant a perfect stalemate. And so the brothers, in their infinite wisdom and finite patience, had escalated from a war of ideas to something far more... Tangible.
The dead, it turned out that they made excellent soldiers...
Not immediately, of course. Fresh souls arriving in the afterlife were confused, disoriented, still clinging to the mortal framework of their mortal existence. They needed... Guidance. Purpose. A cause worthy of their eternal service. And what cause could be more worthy than the fundamental question of how reality itself should function?
In the gleaming towers of the Celestial City, recruitment officers with wings of pure starlight explained to bewildered souls that they had been chosen for the most righteous of causes: persevere order and love throughout creation. The training was rigorous but fair, the hierarchy clear but just and the purpose - oh, the purpose was beautiful in its absolute certainty.
In the jagged peaks of the Ashen Kingdom, commissars with wings of shadow and flame welcomed the dead with promises of ultimate freedom. No rules but strength, no purpose, but what you craved for yourself, and the intoxicating power to reshape reality itself through pure, unbridled will.
Both sides, naturally, neglected to mention certain details about celestial warfare. The way a "killed" soldier didn't simply die but shattered into raw Anima- spiritual essence that could be harvested, processed, consumed. The way Heaven's glorious Soulforges transformed fallen warriors into weapons and architecture, their consciousness scattered but their essence repurposed for the greater good. The way Hell's battlefield feeding frenzies saw soldiers devouring friend and foe alike, growing stronger with each consumed soul while losing pieces of whatever they had once been.
They were operational necessitiew, strategic realities. The recruits would understand in time.
Standing at the observation deck of the Celestial Citadel, God folded his hands behind his back and watched a particularly interesting development unfold on Earth. A young woman named Elara was about to make a choice that would send ripples through the Coin's delicate balance. She stood before a government building, holding a sign that reads "Justice Without Violence," while around her a crowd grew increasingly restless.
Meanwhile, in the volcanic chambers of the Ashen Throne, Satan leaned forward with predarory interest as he observed a young man named Keal uploading files to a secure server. Government corruption, financial records, evidence that would topple a regime and doom the man who leaked it. The revolutionary's finger hesitate over the final keystroke
Two souls, two choices, two different paths to the afterlife.
Neither brother suspected that these particular recruits would prove to be anything other than standard additions to their eternal armies. Neither anticipated that a pacifist activist and a violent revolutionary might find the celestial war less black and white than their commanding officers had promised.
And neither realized that the Creator, in His infinite mischief, had build a rather significant loophole into His seemingly simple contest. A loophole that began with a single dangerous question:
What happens when the soldiers start thinking for themselves?
The coin trembled on its fulcrum between opposing forces of a such perfect balance that reality itself seemed to hold it's breym in the mortal realm below, two young humans made their choices, unaware that they were about to become pawns in a game where the stakes were nothing less than the nature of existence itself.
But pawns, as any good chess player knows, have an annoying tendency of reaching the other side of the board.
And when they do, they become something else entirely.
The first death would come at dawn. The second, at duck. And with them, the careful balance of eternity would begin to crack.