Dignity, power, love, and ego—these breed monsters, and sometimes even gods. If death is the only thing worth living for, then what use is birth unless it makes you a god?
It was dark. So dark that the creatures who resided in it did not even know their own kind. They longed for warmth, for love, for light. They longed for a god.
And so a god is what they were given.
At the bottom of what would one day be called the Primordial Void, a brilliance appeared—a source of radiance the dark creatures, the Umbreals, had never witnessed in their timeless, deathless abyss. Orbs of light scattered throughout the void. One by one, the Umbreals gathered them, and when at last they had brought them all together, their eternal night was pierced by radiance.
From the light, a being emerged. A being of incomprehensible purity. The Umbreals beheld him with awe. Today, the world knows that being as Yahweh.
Then, for the first time, sound was born. A voice deeper than silence, heavy enough to make the void itself tremble:
"Let there be light."
The Umbreals erupted in brilliance. Wings tore from their darkened flesh, halos burned above their skulls. Their bodies were reshaped, their void-born essence filled with light.
The first angels had been created.
"W-what's happening to us?!" cried one, staring at his new form.
"He's… he's beautiful," whispered another, trembling.
God gazed upon his newborn children. Yet as he looked, he asked himself, "But where shall they dwell?"
With power newly found, Yahweh stretched his will across the void. He wove realms from nothing, crafting radiance into form. Thus, the Heavens were born. There, God and his angels dwelled in harmony for a thousand years.
But peace cannot last forever.
Among the angels rose one whose pride eclipsed his reverence. Lucifer, the Morningstar, began to poison the minds of his kin, whispering rebellion and ambition. He claimed he would rise above even God.
One-third of the host followed him. Heaven's serenity was broken. War ignited.
The skies split with blood and light. Michael, protector of Heaven, stood before Lucifer upon the battlefield. His voice thundered:
"You are no longer welcome in the divine kingdom of God, Lucifer Morningstar!"
Lucifer's defiance burned in his eyes. "Speak all you like, protector. Soon I will rise higher than even God Himself!"
Michael's jaw clenched. "Arrogant beast."
In an instant, Michael struck. Their collision shattered the very ground, bones breaking beneath the weight of holy force. Lucifer screamed in agony as Michael drove him down.
Then, the battlefield grew silent. For God Himself had descended.
Lucifer's defiance faltered. Panic gripped his voice. "W-wait… Lord! We can talk about this. Spare me, I beg you!"
But Michael had already broken his legs. There was nowhere left to run. Lucifer knew his fate was sealed—not just his body, but his soul.
God's voice came calm, yet filled with wrath:
"Depart from Me, for I do not know you."
With divine force, Yahweh hurled Lucifer from the Heavens. He fell through clouds of light into the abyss below. As he plummeted, the skies above turned crimson.
For Heaven was not the only creation.
When Lucifer struck the ground, an agony beyond anything known consumed him. His scream echoed through the abyss:
"AAAAAAHHH!"
This was pain unknown to God's perfect realm. And for five thousand years, Lucifer wandered the wastelands of Hell.
Until he found it.
A faint, radiant light.
He stumbled toward it, desperate, like a starving man chasing bread.
"No… it can't be," he whispered, eyes wide.
The light spoke. Alive, conscious. It was a fragment of Yahweh Himself—an essence never woven into the Creator's being.
Lucifer did not hesitate. He absorbed it.
Though it was but a shard, its power tore through him like fire. He felt everything and nothing at once. Power surged. Castles and constructs rose from the scorched ground at his command.
And thus, the Kingdom of Hell was born.
But a kingdom is meaningless without subjects.
With no living beings to claim as his own, Lucifer reached down, grasped the scorched earth and the blood-soaked soil, and shaped them with his hand. From dirt and darkness, the first demons emerged.
Here begins what would forever be known as the Era of Power.