The Ruins of Bellwright
The wind howled through the hollow bones of Bellwright — an ancient cathedral-city once devoted to silence and prayer, now a shattered grave of divine arrogance. Stone arches stood like broken ribs. Fires flickered between cracked statues of saints. The sky pulsed red with the dusk of a dying sun.
Jack stood at the heart of the ruins, his coat billowing behind him, the Devil's mark glowing faintly on his chest.
He was waiting.
The map given by the Crimson Hands had led him here — to a battleground lost to time, where one of God's Disciples once laid waste to a legion of devils in a single breath. And now, centuries later, one had returned.
But not to destroy.
Jack had come to challenge.
Footsteps echoed beyond the shattered nave. Something moved. Not shuffling. Not sneaking. Walking with purpose.
The wind stopped.
A figure stepped through the archway — tall, draped in silver robes that shimmered with ethereal light. His face was smooth, beautiful, unmarred. But his eyes were not human. They were halos, spinning and blinding with righteous fire.
"I know who you are," the man said calmly.
Jack said nothing.
"I am Elias — Disciple of the Seventh Throne. Angel-blooded. God-chosen." He drew a blade from air — not forged, but sung into existence. It shimmered with hymns. "You have desecrated holy grounds. Spilled divine blood. The Lord's patience has ended."
Jack's hand twitched.
The sigil on his palm began to pulse.
"I prayed for help," Jack said softly. "And Heaven stayed silent. So now I'll make you scream."
---
Clash of Light and Blood
Elias moved like falling lightning — a blur of divine motion, blade slashing toward Jack's throat. Jack ducked, stepped back, and launched a burst of fire and wind from his palm. The flames collided with Elias mid-air, but the Disciple twisted, sheathing himself in glowing script. The fire hissed out harmlessly.
Jack rolled aside as the ground split from a single swing of Elias's sword. Marble and bone shattered, echoing like thunder.
Jack extended his fingers.
Blood Manipulation — red tendrils surged from his own veins, forming spears and shields mid-air. He launched them forward like crimson javelins. Elias spun his sword in perfect arcs, cleaving through the blood with graceful, deliberate fury.
"Your gifts," Elias growled, "are abominations."
"And yours," Jack snarled, "are cowardice dressed in gold."
Elias raised his free hand — a chorus of glowing chains burst from the sky, descending in radiant columns.
Jack canceled them.
Power Cancellation — the sky dimmed, the runes broke apart mid-air like shattered glass.
But the effort made him stumble. Using multiple powers in one breath burned like molten ash inside his veins. His body wasn't built to channel so much at once — not yet.
He gritted his teeth.
Elias reappeared in front of him — too fast to see — and slammed a palm into Jack's chest, launching him through a wall of stained glass. Jack's back cracked against stone. Dust rose.
"Enough!" Elias declared, floating above the ruins. "Return to the pit that spawned you!"
Jack stood, coughing blood, wiping it away.
"Why don't you come down here," he muttered, "and say that again?"
---
The Devil Watches
A shadow moved where no light had cast it.
On the crumbling balcony of Bellwright's highest tower, a figure sat cross-legged, perched like a gargoyle. His horns gleamed in the dusk. His eyes were fire and void.
The Devil.
He watched silently, fingers steepled under his chin. His wings — leathery, immense — folded behind him like a throne.
He did not interfere.
But he whispered.
"Good. Use it, Jack. Push past the mercy you still cling to. Burn him."
Below, Jack closed his eyes.
He could feel the Devil's gaze — hot, endless. Testing him. Judging not his strength, but his willingness.
He pulled fire into his lungs. Reality twisted.
---
Awakened Fury
When Jack opened his eyes, they were black with red irises — glowing like cinders in a dying star.
The blood in his veins boiled. His muscles stretched, cracking slightly with raw, unnatural power. He lifted a hand — and tore a piece of the world.
Reality Manipulation.
The air around him bent. Space rippled. A sphere of warping time formed around his body.
He walked forward.
Elias swung his sword — but it curved away, slicing nothing.
"Impossible!" Elias roared, trying to fly back.
But Jack was already there.
He slammed a palm into Elias's chest — not physical, but through reality itself.
Elias screamed. Light exploded from his mouth. His wings, once radiant, burst into black fire.
Jack sent a pulse through the Disciple's body, unraveling the divine code that made him immune to death.
"Let's see how holy you are without your god's training wheels."
Elias crashed to the ground. Jack landed on top of him, knee to chest.
He raised a hand — ready to end it.
---
Temptation
"Do it," the Devil whispered.
"Kill him."
Jack hesitated.
Elias coughed, coughing golden blood.
"You… hate Heaven…" Elias gasped. "But you don't know what it protects… if you destroy us… worse things will come…"
Jack narrowed his eyes. His hand began to shake.
"I've already seen worse," he said. "I became it."
He clenched his fist.
And stopped.
"Not yet."
He stood, stepping back. "You'll live. Go tell your god… his next disciple won't be so lucky."
Elias collapsed, unconscious.
---
Collapse
Jack staggered away, blood dripping from his nose.
He'd pushed too far.
Mind Control, Elemental Storm, Blood Constructs, Power Cancellation, Reality Distortion — all in one battle. Even with the Devil's mark, his human body was still a cage.
He fell to one knee.
A shadow fell over him.
The Devil stood beside him now, tall and impossibly quiet.
"I watched," the Devil said, his voice deep, smooth, ancient. "You could have killed him."
Jack looked up, exhausted.
"I'm not your weapon."
"No," the Devil said. "But you are my investment. Mercy is expensive, Jack. And Heaven will not show it to you."
Jack didn't answer. He couldn't. His chest burned.
The Devil stepped in closer, circling him slowly, like a thought that refused to leave.
"You hesitate because you think mercy is strength," he said. "It isn't. It's a leash Heaven left on your soul."
The Devil brushed a hand across a fallen pillar. Where his claw touched, the stone wept blood.
"I know what you felt when you struck him. The power. The clarity. For a moment, you were not afraid. You were what Heaven fears."
Jack's voice came hoarse. "That's not who I am."
The Devil crouched, fiery eyes locking with Jack's.
"It could be."
"I won't become what you want."
"I didn't give you power to fight their wars," the Devil murmured. "I gave it so you could burn the board. End the game. Rewrite the rules."
Jack clenched his teeth. "You want revenge."
"And you want justice," the Devil said. "We both want lies to burn."
He stood once more, towering.
"You were made to kneel. I'm offering you a crown."
Jack's breath caught. His fists clenched, trembling with restraint.
"I don't want your crown."
The Devil nodded, almost amused.
"You will," he said softly. "Because Heaven will leave you no other choice."
Then he vanished.
But this time, the shadows stayed behind.
Watching.
Waiting.
---
A Warning in the Ashes
Night fell.
Jack built a small fire in the broken sanctuary. He sat, staring into the flames, wiping his blade clean.
Footsteps.
Not angelic.
Not infernal.
Human.
Lira appeared at the edge of the shadows, her cloak torn, face pale.
"You're hurt," she whispered.
He nodded.
She knelt beside him. "Did you win?"
He didn't speak.
She touched his hand.
"I heard… the Disciple screamed."
"He was strong," Jack said. "Not the strongest."
Lira frowned. "And you?"
Jack stared into the fire.
"I'm not sure what I am anymore."
She leaned closer. "Then let's find out together."
And in the ruins of Bellwright, beside flickering embers, the boy marked by the Devil and the girl running from Heaven made a silent promise — not to survive, but to burn the world down first.
---
Ashes and Eyes
Long after the fire had died and Lira had fallen asleep beside the cracked altar, Jack remained awake — back resting against scorched stone, eyes fixed on the cathedral's broken ceiling.
Then he felt it.
Not a power.
A presence.
He stood slowly.
The air grew colder, as if the shadows were holding their breath.
Behind one of the ruined columns, something watched him.
Not angel. Not devil.
Something else.
Jack stepped forward, fire already coiling at his fingertips. "Show yourself."
Silence.
Then — a flicker. A tall figure emerged, wrapped in black ceremonial robes lined with silver scripture. A hood concealed its face, but from beneath the shadow came a voice like parchment tearing.
"We watched your battle," it said. "And we listened to the one who whispers in fire."
Jack tensed. "You with Heaven?"
The figure didn't answer. Instead, it raised a hand — not in aggression, but in recognition.
"There are older things than Heaven and Hell, Jack. And now… they're listening too."
Jack raised a brow. "You have a name?"
The hood dipped.
"Not one you'd survive hearing."
Then the figure vanished — not with a flash or flame, but like smoke curling into itself, gone with the wind.
Jack stood still, heart pounding, the echo of that voice lingering like a stain in the air.
He looked back at Lira, sleeping.
He didn't say it aloud, but he felt it.
Something else has entered the board.