The orphan maker - chapter 7
It was past midnight in one of the darker alleys of the demon world. Pyro and his assistant Marso moved carefully, scanning the street for signs of unusual activity among the sinner population. Their eyes caught a lone figure slumped against a wall, bruised and battered, but surprisingly passive.
"Who is that?" Marso whispered, pointing. The man did not move, did not flinch, simply sat there as if the world around him didn't exist.
Pyro stepped closer, curiosity sparking beneath his usual stoicism. "Why isn't he fighting back? He doesn't even resist."
One of the gang of smaller demons nearby, clearly used to the man's presence, shrugged. "That's... the Orphan Maker. Heard of him? Local legend, some say he's been through hell and back. Ain't nobody knows why he does what he does, but if you cross him... you pray you survive."
Marso raised an eyebrow. "A legend? You mean... a human?"
Pyro's gaze hardened. "More than human. He's a sinner whose sin transcended his life. When someone like him comes to the demon world, even the locals respect-or fear-you don't see that often. And if he wants redemption... well, most say he'll just humors them and move on."
The Orphan Maker stirred slightly, his eyes dull but observant. He didn't speak. Pyro crouched a little closer. "You're coming with us."
He finally lifted his gaze, meeting Pyro's eyes. No anger. No pleading. Just... emptiness.
Among the many islands under the estate of wrath that alley would be most fun is what marso though till his boss pyro reminded him what they need to do
At Mary's Facility
Mary observed quietly as the Orphan Maker was led into the facility. The room was calm but tense. He remained seated, hands folded in his lap, silently watching the others go about their tasks. Mary approached him cautiously.
"You don't have to talk," she said softly. "But... I need to understand why you became... what you are."
He did not respond. His silence was deliberate, unyielding.
"Was it... Mikey?" Mary pressed, her tone gentle but firm. "The child who... died?" as she looked into his soul using her power given by the god
The Orphan Maker's eyes flickered briefly, a storm of emotion hidden behind them. Then he looked away. Silence.
"You can't make them see your pain. You can't force the world to forgive. But you can... face it," Mary continued, leaning closer. "If you refuse to speak, that's fine. But you need to acknowledge why you're here. Why you keep making orphans like him."
He exhaled slowly, the faintest shiver running through him. Still, he did not speak. His refusal was not defiance-it was armor.
Mary stepped back, nodding to herself. She already knew. It wasn't about him telling the truth-it was about him feeling it. That spark of regret, of remorse. She could see it flicker, however faint, and that was enough for now.
Though it wasn't end the world is moving as they are
Ariel stepped into the quiet chamber of the crowned angel, her boots echoing softly against the polished floor. She folded her arms, her usual stoicism giving way to an edge of curiosity.
"Sera," she began, her voice firm but tinged with urgency, "I need to know more about the Holy Knight. Everything I've heard is... inconsistent. I need the truth."
Sera's eyes dimmed, clouded with the weight of memories. A soft sigh escaped her lips, and she looked down at her hands before speaking.
"The Holy Knight... he's searching for the heir of Heaven."
Ariel's eyes widened. "The first god has a son? I... I didn't even know that was possible."
Sera shook her head slowly. "It is. You weren't meant to know. But you must understand-he did not act out of rebellion for himself. He saw what the Sky God had done... how the Fae were mistreated, how Heaven shifted from a place of balance and guidance to one of... rigid control, military-like in structure. Angles no longer taught or nurtured-they enforced. He could not stand idly by."
Ariel's brow furrowed. "Wait... so he rebelled against the Sky God to protect the people?"
"In a way," Sera said softly, a hint of sadness in her tone. "He challenged the Sky God intentionally, knowing the consequences. He wanted to be banished... to be free. Free to find the heir, Arthur-the true heir. That is his mission."
Ariel took a slow breath, trying to absorb the weight of Sera's words. Her mind raced, recalling her own training days, her time under Adam's command. She remembered the first meeting with the Holy Knight-the sword of the original god, standing before Adam without hesitation, radiating authority and righteousness. At the time, she had only understood the fragments: the warnings, the half-truths designed to paint him as a rebel, a danger.
Now, the context was different. Now, she realized how carefully the story had been framed to keep her-and many others-from understanding the truth.
Sera's gaze lifted to Ariel's, steady and unwavering. "Do not mistake his rebellion for arrogance. He acts with purpose. Everything he does... every step, every challenge, every fight-it is to find Arthur, to ensure the heir of Heaven rises as he should."
Ariel's fingers clenched slightly around the hilt of her spear. "Arthur... the heir. The one no one in Olympus has seen. He's real?"
Sera gave a small, sad nod. "Yes. And the Holy Knight has dedicated himself to finding him. Everything else-the conflicts, the punishments, the legends-they are merely shadows of his path."
Ariel exhaled, a mix of awe and disbelief washing over her. She had trained to follow orders, to see the world in lines of duty and hierarchy-but this... this was beyond anything she had been prepared for.
Her mind briefly flicked back to Adam, the first god's chosen, now exiled and living under the consequences of choices made long ago. And to think-the Holy Knight had stood before him, demanded obedience, yet left knowing he would need to operate outside the constraints of Heaven itself.
Sera leaned back, the weight of her gaze grounding Ariel. "Remember this, Ariel. What you were told about him... it was never the full story. The Holy Knight is not a villain by choice-he is a sentinel, and his path is one few can understand."
Ariel nodded slowly, the pieces starting to fit, yet leaving her with even more questions. Her thoughts were interrupted by the distant echo of training wings and footsteps in the hall-reminders that the world outside was still moving, still waiting for heroes to act.
And somewhere, hidden beyond Heaven's watchful eyes, the Holy Knight continued his search for Arthur
Though don't worry marmon is appearing in that chapter to drop a powerful bomb as usual
Marmon knelt amidst the dim glow of his lab, shadows crawling along the walls as if alive. Every so often, he coughed violently, the darkness around him writhing in response, almost mocking his human frailty.
He took a shaky breath and spoke aloud, though his voice barely carried over the heavy silence. "What... what is the origin of the Morningstar?"
A voice, low and omnipresent, resonated through the room. It was not a sound but a presence that pressed against his mind.
"It is the name of my seed," the voice whispered, as the air behind him thickened and coalesced into a foggy, shifting silhouette, dark as the void itself.
Marmon's eyes narrowed, instinctively bracing against the weight of the presence. "The... meaning?" he demanded, though his voice trembled.
The fog pulsed, forming vague, amorphous limbs that seemed to loom closer without moving. "Long ago, a battle erupted between I and the first god of Heaven. In that battle, I created Sins. He, in turn, created Angels. The conflict escalated, echoing through realms... and in the midst of it, I planted my first seed of Sin in the ranks of Heaven-Lucifer, my finest creation. Yet... the Morningstar birthed more than that. It carried the concept of a divine monster. The Morningstar... is my current pet." a concept even Lucifer draw power from was a pet of the voice spoken to marmon
Marmon's mind raced. Every instinct screamed caution, but his hunger for understanding outweighed fear. "And... the Morningstar family?" he asked. "Is this... where they draw their power?" curious want to know how far the power of Lucifer and his daughter are and understand them
The fog seemed to hum, almost amused by his curiosity. "Yes. Their power is a fragment of me, drawn from the first seed, nurtured through fear, shadow, and obedience. But remember this... what they wield is mine, yet it bends to them as it bends to no other. It is a gift... and a leash."
Marmon exhaled slowly, sweat beading on his forehead as he knelt amid the darkness. Though the presence pressed, weighed, and whispered terror into the edges of his consciousness, he understood something fundamental-he was no mere observer. This being, this dark fog, this primordial... it had chosen him to know, to learn, and perhaps, to act.
"Then... I know who I am speaking to," Marmon muttered under his breath. "You... you are bound to me, aren't you?"
The shadows shifted, almost forming a vague, towering figure behind him. The voice responded, cold but faintly approving, "Yes. And because you asked... I will speak to you. But remember... the deeper you go, the more you are part of this seed. Fear... terror... all will flow through you. Do not mistake knowledge for control."
Marmon nodded, determination glinting in his eyes even as the darkness pressed ever closer. In the silence that followed, only the quiet rasp of his coughs and the slow, deliberate pulsing of the fog remained-an unspoken covenant forming between mortal and primordial the guy speak with marmon is more than divine.