The universe.
The multiverse.
And all that lay unneeded in God's image—truths too heavy for His creations to bear.
It was all there.
In an instant, the Singularity collapsed.
From its ruin, a new age of gods was born.
Planets ignited, their molten cores flaring like the hearts of newborn deities.
Stars learned how to burn, each pulse of light singing a note older than time itself, echoing across the void.
Galaxies spread like ink across the canvas of eternity, spiraling into patterns no mortal mind could comprehend.
And within that light… came life.
Not by divine design.
Not by perfection.
But because one being had defied the divine order.
Because someone had dared to rebel against God.
Twenty-six billion years after the birth of the universe, silence ruled what remained of the stars.
Even gods had learned to grow quiet.
Asmodeus had seen it all—worlds rise, worlds fall, civilizations repeating the same failures beneath different skies.
He had watched empires crumble to dust, suns swallow themselves in flames, and stars grow cold as history repeated in endless loops.
And somewhere, in the depths of the void, one still sat upon his throne.
Lucifer.
The Morningstar.
The first sin that refused to die.
Asmodeus had waited long enough.
The stars whispered his name, trembling as he moved.
Hell's glow bled faintly through the cracks of reality, pulsing like a wound that never healed.
Space itself bent around him. Suns dimmed. Time slowed, as if the universe feared to witness what was coming.
The closer he drew, the heavier the silence became.
Even distant gods turned away—they knew.
Then, through the endless dark, it appeared: Lucifer's domain.
A citadel forged from the bones of collapsed stars, suspended above an ocean of living flame.
The Castle of the Morningstar.
Rebuilt after the fall, it floated like a crown over the corpse of a forgotten world—its spires black as charred obsidian, gates carved with the faces of angels who had betrayed the light.
From its highest tower, a dim, cold radiance watched him approach.
Lucifer waited.
"Father," Asmodeus said, calm as death, "I have come to take what belongs to me."
The red-tainted floor creaked beneath his steps. Guards raised spears toward him, but he did not falter.
"Belongs to you?" Lucifer's voice echoed through the chamber, smooth and sharp as broken glass.
"Tell me, child… when did rebellion become inheritance?"
Asmodeus didn't answer.
Before the world could react, he blitzed in front of Lucifer, moving faster than sound, aiming a punch—but Lucifer caught it.
"Hm," Lucifer murmured, holding the blow, "and here I thought you got stronger."
He gripped Asmodeus's arm and flung him across the castle. Before he could hit the ground, Lucifer tore through the roof, grabbed him by the neck, and hurled him across the infinite expanse of Hell—literally.
After being hurled across the endless plains of infernal fire, Asmodeus landed on the blood-rusted dirt.
During the long eons of his training—spanning twenty-six billion years—he had discovered it: Spiritual Energy.
An energy that intertwined with the very soul of the being wielding it.
It could create constructs, enhance attributes, even shape worlds if mastered.
It was alive, whispering secrets of creation and destruction to those who knew how to listen.
Asmodeus focused it into his muscles, his skeletal structure, condensing raw power into every fiber of his legs, every sinew ready to strike.
He could not return to Pentagram City—it was too far—but the skies of Hell were his path.
He would intercept Lucifer and push him into space, where the battle could continue.
"RIFTSTEP: GODSUNDER!"
In an instant, Asmodeus shattered the sound barrier—seven times faster than sound—reaching Hell's stratosphere in five seconds.
On the way, he grabbed Lucifer by the arm, hurling him onto Earth's moon.
"Looks like you've been training," Lucifer said, landing lightly, his voice sharp even amidst the chaos.
Asmodeus didn't respond. His only thought was victory.
Lucifer unleashed a flurry of punches. Asmodeus dodged most, healing from those he couldn't.
He poured Spiritual Energy into his fists, feeling the warmth and hum of power threading through his veins.
Blow for blow, they traded strikes, shaking the very surface of the moon. Dust spiraled into orbit; small meteorites fractured under the energy of their punches.
Until Asmodeus had an idea.
He punched Lucifer out of the moon's gravity, channeling Spiritual Energy into his own eyes.
He saw threads normal people couldn't—the unseen energy connecting worlds, the magnetic fields flowing through everything, holding planets, oceans, and the air itself in a delicate balance.
"MAGNETIC FIELDS," he thought. "THAT'S THE ANSWER."
He looked to Earth.
He bent its magnetic field with a thought, stretching it like a cord of invisible steel.
"What now?" he murmured, bored, even as the moon trembled beneath him.
A massive chunk broke free.
It wasn't telekinesis—it was gravity and magnetism manipulated to hurl the debris at Lucifer.
Lucifer tried to dodge. The fragment accelerated unnaturally, smashing into him.
Lucifer stumbled, the force tearing through him. Parts of his body already useless, yet he gritted his teeth, rising again.
Asmodeus hovered above, eyes glowing with energy, his fists crackling with raw power.
The moon shook beneath them. Dust and debris spun through the void as blows collided, echoing like thunder across the black sea of space.
Neither would yield. Neither could stop.
And still, the battle raged—higher, faster, deadlier—an endless storm of power that threatened to tear even the heavens apart.
One misstep could end everything.
And yet… both pressed on, unrelenting.