[ LUCIFER — POV ]
I have watched kingdoms crumble into dust.
I have witnessed angels descend ripping the heavens with their shouts.
Among all these phenomena nothing is as captivating, as a person quietly falling to pieces.
Akira sat by himself in the corner of a rundown small room the type of space people retreat to when seeking to vanish from the world. A single flickering fluorescent light overhead. A cracked wall exuding moisture. A silence heavy it could choke.
After that the screen lit up.
News.
People cherish their falsehoods to such an extent that they wrap them in colors and soothing tones.
Breaking News—Detective Lint Saito was fatally shot overnight. Leading suspect: Akira—connected to the Night Club Massacre.
I realized it prior, to him actually taking action.
A break.
Not in bone.
Not in mind.
In belief.
His fingers gripped the phone as though they had abruptly lost their strength. The newsreaders voice continued endlessly oblivious, to its actions merciless. Words poured down like soil on a grave.
Murderer. Monster. Runaway.
Akira remained unfazed.
Typically people would yell now. Weep. Reject. Beg.
Akira didn't do any of that.
His respiration grew slower.
Too slow.
His reflection stared back at him from the mirror—eyes hollow jaw clenched so fiercely that the cracking of the teeth was audible.
And then—
A laugh.
Low. Fragmented. Off.
"Heh…"
I smiled.
I was fully aware of that tone.
It was not insanity.
It was comprehension.
"So… this is your method " he whispered. "Lint…"
The phone slipped from his grasp. Shattered on the floor. The sound resembled a gunshot echoing through the room.
He removed his jacket.
The mood shifted.
People don't realize it. I do—when gravity itself appears to halt. When shadows stretch far. When the earth leans back sensing a presence stirring.
His hands trembled—not out of fear.
With control.
"Not even my body was spared to grow cold " he murmured. "No words were uttered. No suspicion arose."
His fingernails scratched deeply into the skin of his palms. Blood surfaced, vivid and genuine— more honest, than the outside world.
"They ended me without ending me."
Ah.
There it is.
That sentence.
The instant that awareness dawns is the time when champions emerge… and demons come to life.
The display, across the room repeatedly broadcasted the news headline. His name resonated powerfully than any siren ever might.
Akira gradually turned toward it.
At that moment I noticed that object.
The crimson that seeped in from the corners of his eyes.
Not possession.
Not fusion.
No—this was something far worse than that.
This was resignation.
"This is the price " he murmured faintly. "For enduring. For existing."
The walls started to fracture.
Just a little.
The lamp overhead was flashing rapidly fragments of light descending like fading stars. The wind, alien, to this realm swirled about him stirring the dust causing the shadows at his feet to bend as though they were bowing.
I approached silently unseen my wings tucking in restlessly.
Are you aware of the cause, behind Gods fear of humans?
Not their might.
Not their brainpower.
It is this moment.
The instant they realize that society will never excuse their uniqueness—and they resolve that forgiveness is no longer necessary, for them.
Akira gathered the fragments of the phone gazing at the image of himself, beneath the caption MURDERER.
"If I must play the villain…"
His tone dropped to a whisper as piercing as a blade that could slice through heaven
"…then I will determine how the story concludes." He went on "You portrayed me as the villain, before the world my friend... Now watch what a villain is capable of."
The redness, in his eyes grew even stronger.
And for the very first time—
Not as Lucifer.
Not as an angel.
But as a WITNESS…
I experienced a sensation akin, to RESPECT.
The dynamics of the game had shifted.
The pair of twins were taking action.
And Akira—
Akira had just done the first step to becoming something that even I could not control.