"You have committed a grievous act," God's voice thundered, shaking all of Heaven. "You challenged a high-ranking Archangel. You sought battle. You claimed superiority over one above you. This is a grave sin."
Lucivar fell to his knees, trembling.
"Please, Messiah, my Lord, forgive me," he begged. "This was my first sin. I have never, never acted so foolishly. I swear I will never speak or do such a thing again. Please, have mercy."
"No." God's voice cut through him like ice. "A sin is a sin."
"You are the tenth Archangel to cross the boundary. The first was Lucifer. Cast down, reborn as a demon. Now, you will follow."
"Before you are cast down," God continued, "you will endure punishment. One hundred thousand years of bloodlust, pain, and agony beyond mortal comprehension. Only then will you descend to Earth, reborn as a devil."
Chains of holy light wrapped around him.
Lucivar screamed as fire tore through flesh and bone, scorching wings, shredding sinew, ripping him apart from the inside out.
"Please, forgive me!" he cried. Tears burned as they streamed down a face that had never known such torment. "This was my first sin! I swear, never again!"
God said nothing.
Two Archangels seized him. They carried him toward a vast, endless chamber beneath the heavens. Divine light lanced through him, rending his body, burning him in a rhythm that made time meaningless. When they flung him into the dark, endless void, consciousness dissolved into a sleep heavier than any mortal or angel had known.
Yet rest did not come.
Pain consumed him. Flesh. Soul. Every thought. Every memory. Time melted. Seconds stretched into centuries. Centuries into eternity.
Lucivar screamed.
"Damn it, damn it all! Curse this! Curse everyone! Curse the omens themselves!"
"I sinned once! Just once! For the first time, I faltered, I realized I was wrong, and yet this!" His fury roared through the void.
"I am cast into Hell, not even a demon, but a devil! Every other Archangel who sinned became a demon. Me, a devil. Damn everyone! Damn the Creator! Damn all of Heaven!"
His scream echoed endlessly, fracturing the darkness around him.
A hundred thousand years passed.
The same two Archangels returned, silent. They dragged him through Heaven's gates. A portal opened. They hurled him through it.
Lucivar plummeted. Wings gone. Glory stripped. He instinctively reached to fly. Nothing. He slammed into the ground. Pain exploded through every nerve.
"This is annoying," he muttered, teeth gritted.
Slowly, he pushed himself up, one hand clutching his head as waves of agony pulsed through his skull. Vision blurred. He looked around.
"So this is it," he whispered, bitter. "Screw everyone. Screw all of it."
A broken laugh escaped.
"I sinned once. Just once. We guided humans, protected them. And they? Sin a million times, forgiven. But me? One mistake, unforgivable."
His hands trembled. He reached behind his back. Nothing. No wings. No warmth. No divinity.
"For a hundred thousand years, they stripped me of glory, threw me to Earth like filth," he growled. "This is absurd."
He looked out at the frozen desert. Cracked earth buried beneath snow. Silence. Dead air.
"Where do I even go?" he whispered.
Where do I begin?
He inhaled sharply. Cold burned his lungs.
"I'm no longer immortal," he said quietly. "I am mortal."
Lucivar trudged through the endless desert for nearly two hours.
Sand stretched to the horizon, untouched and merciless. Each step felt heavier than the last.
Damn. I feel miserable.
In Heaven, he had never known thirst. Never needed water. Not once in all his years had his body demanded it.
And now.
His throat burned.
Just one drop, he thought bitterly. One would be enough.
He cursed under his breath and kept walking, dragging a heavy black case through the sand. A dark veil hid his face, while a strip of white cloth remained tightly bound around his wrist, the final remnant of what he once was.
A sudden breeze brushed past him.
Lucivar stopped.
Raising a hand to shield his eyes, he looked ahead.
A portal had opened in the air.
Two figures stepped out, lesser demons. Their auras were weak, but unmistakably infernal.
"Please, come with us," one said, bowing slightly. "You have already fallen. Our master wishes to speak with you."
Lucivar's gaze darkened.
His grip tightened around the handle of the case. Turning back was pointless. There was nothing left behind him.
"I don't have a choice," he muttered. "Either I go, or I end up like the others."
Like the Archangels cast out before him.
With one last glance at the empty desert, Lucivar stepped forward and entered the portal.
The lesser demons followed.
The portal sealed shut, vanishing without a trace.
The world twisted.
Lucivar staggered as space itself shifted, then steadied.
He stood inside a vast hall.
The chamber was colossal, its ceiling swallowed by darkness. Endless black pillars stretched upward, and an oppressive pressure bore down on him from every direction. The air was thick, suffocating.
Then he felt it.
A presence.
Lucivar turned.
A figure lounged upon a massive obsidian throne, long arms resting casually against its sides. His posture was relaxed, but the power radiating from him was absolute.
"Well, if it isn't my old friend," the figure said smoothly.
"Lucivar."
Lucivar narrowed his eyes.
"Lucifer."
The Demon Lord chuckled. "So this is Heaven's judgment." His gaze swept over him. "Truly ugly."