On an island lost to endless fog and the march of history, stood a lone cathedral made entirely from the bones of every creature that had ever lived.
And inside it, a lone priest stared at the giant dazzling cross, His eyes closed, hands clasped in prayer, a look of sorrow finding home on His innocent, childlike face.
"Such is the harshness of life... Isn't it, my zealous brother?"
From a door of light, a young man stepped out, smiling pleasantly, appearing harmless and charming as He walked into the cathedral. He wore the robes of a wizard and a dark pointed hat, a crystal monocle gleaming with unsettling luster on His right eye.
"Most teachers give you the answers before the test. However, life doesn't work that way. It throws you into the fire first, and only after you've survived does it show you why you were there." He sighed, a faint smile inevitably finding its place on His lips.
"Indeed... But that isn't merely life. It is experience itself. The hardest kind of teacher, giving the test first and the lesson afterwards." Adam's eyes opened, clear and soft, glowing with blazing intensity like an ocean of light, making Him appear even more pure and gentle, His face calm and peaceful.
"Heh heh. You've always been disturbing, my brother. So composed, even after breaking your own blessed." Amon's lips curled upward as He adjusted His monocle with a pleasant smile. "I wonder what your champion will do now..."
Adam looked down as Amon approached Him. The two sons of the Creator walked side by side through the cathedral, passing bizarre statues of winged creatures, some of their faces melted, their wings scorched, feathers burned away from the ultimate sin they had committed against their own Creator.
A sin that was the beginning of it all.
The Eight Kings of Angels of the Almighty God.
Angel of Fate...
Angel of War...
Angel of Wind...
Angel of Time...
Angel of Imagination...
Wisdom Angel...
White Angel...
Dark Angel...
However, at the very end stood a lone statue unlike any of the others. He was not extravagant or majestic. Instead, He was shrouded in dark, tattered robes, His eyes saturated with insanity, gazing up at the heavens with a hatred seen in no other. His dark wings spread wide, casting a shadow over the world, bearing witness to every sin unfolding, given birth by the abyss in the heart of every living being.
The Last Angel was horrifying, piercing everyone who gazed upon Him with an unfathomable sense of doom and dread, as if He embodied fear itself.
But He was also beautiful. So stunning and magnificent that even if one's heart was filled with nothing but terror, even knowing the terrible consequences of gazing upon His glorious form, one still could not look away. For He was the Nameless Angel, made in the image of the Creator God.
Roaming the lands, absorbing the sins of all. Bearing the weight of every filth on His vast shoulders, carrying it so that others might be given a chance at salvation.
He was both healer and harmer, trying to help everyone, yet in the end possessing no strength to heal His own self.
He was the most beloved Angel of the Lord. And He was the most loyal of all as well, willing to face anyone, needing only a word from His Lord. The same words that had always brought hope to His hopeless heart.
[Let There Be Light]
"Do you truly think he is capable of inheriting His Will?" Amon asked curiously, glancing at Adam, whose expression remained solemn. "For you have allowed a mortal's life to be taken, a mortal that he held dear and loved. Therefore, he will lack the motivation to continue moving forward..."
"You seem to have misunderstood my intentions." Adam let out a soft sigh, a warm smile appearing on His face.
Amon chuckled, a look of feigned surprise flashing in His dark eyes, His curly black hair swaying in the wind. "Do I? You seem to know everything, and you do. Observing and controlling the world as an outsider, understanding every perspective, arranging every life emotionlessly. Do forgive me, brother, for assuming you had written another story... This time about a pitiful boy who wants nothing but peace, yet was born from endless war, his path as wretched as his soul, destined for madness and suffering."
"And as I have said... I never intervened. I only do so when he asks for my help." Adam's expression softened as He walked calmly to a table, brushing the cover of a book with His fingertips.
"Intriguing. However, he did ask for your help. He begged for a miracle, yet was offered nothing but torment and anguish." Amon said, no particular emotion noticeable in his voice.
"That is the burden I must bear. Sometimes a son cannot understand the things his father does, cursing him, demanding fleeting illusions of comfort and pleasure, not knowing that pain is the hammer, life is the anvil, and he is the sword..." Adam's voice was gentle, His golden eyes dimming.
"How heartless..." Amon glanced at the book Adam held.
Its title read: [Original Sin]
Then He turned counterclockwise, staring at the luminous cross with melancholic eyes, perhaps the first genuine emotion that had bloomed on His face since entering the cathedral. The cross was reminiscent of the one held by His Father. "But would he understand?"
"Have you used decryption?" In less than a second, Adam pierced every veil Amon had constructed to conceal his actions, noticing him listening to Sam's prayers.
Amon straightened, neither confirming nor denying it, only smiling in amusement, tilting his head curiously.
And then a voice reached them both, pained, saturated with confusion and grief:
"... Her... Ther... Father! Help me.... Haaa... Haha... ha.... Why am I in such pain?!"
Adam closed His eyes. When He opened them a heartbeat later, He raised His hand. The cross swayed in the air, hanging from His fingers, as He proclaimed solemnly:
"Suffering is part of the path. But through awareness, you can transform it. My child, may your mind dwell in peace and serenity. May your heart remain open. May your soul awaken and shine in the light of your own true nature. May your spirit be healed and enlightened."
Light blazed from behind Him, the giant cross burning with incandescent, blinding light as Adam lowered His head. "You must endure it, as you have always done. Do not think there is no point, there is. Do not let doubt slither into your heart like a parasite... I know you will stand up. For you are a courageous son of the Lord."
"Hmm... You're placing too much burden on his shoulders." Amon asked with an amiable smile. "Are you certain he will remain standing?"
"If he can dream with a damaged mind and love with a broken heart..." Adam whispered to Himself, faint melancholy threading through His voice. "...How can you say he cannot stand?"
As the words left His lips, both He and Amon cast Their gaze upon the young man, whose face was twisted with desperation, sorrow, and loathing so deep and vast it seemed on the verge of driving him mad.
He ripped out the heart of the Unwinged Angel and began concocting his potion. He added the blood of the Skinless Blood Cat, then the Rat King's, then drops of a beautiful flower, and lastly a dark heart with flowing ice-blue blood: the Beyonder Characteristics of the Unwinged Angel.
They combined into an ice-blue liquid with countless black dots suspended within it, glimmering faintly like a sky full of dying stars.
The Potion of the Unwinged Angel was complete.
And the young man drank it down without a moment of hesitation.
At the same time, the dark stallion was biting a bizarre object, picking it from the Hunter's corpse and gulping it down. His intelligent eyes were composed, as if he knew exactly what he was doing.
As for Samael... He did not rage.
He did not cry out.
This was the moment he had feared. The moment where even hope could no longer reach him. The moment when he would leave his humanity behind and embark on the journey leading to a lightless paradise.
The world dimmed from his perspective. Color drained from the sky. And just as his heart was about to surrender, just as ferocious, gleaming claws replaced his nails and bestial fangs his teeth, something harrowing stirred. Something he had locked away with his own hands.
A pitch-black devil emerged from the abyss of his own heart.
It was him.
One.
The only.
The Hollow Self from a bygone era, crawling out from the fog of history, trying to reach him.
The illusion of the past, long buried by time, pushed Sam forward, forcing him to stand on his own two feet. Enormous hands cradled his face from behind as an insidious voice projected itself into his mind:
"When one has a mind that is clear, free from fear, and sees the impermanence of all things... there is no fear of death."
"Stand up. I don't remember us being so weak and pathetic when we fought in Stalingrad, nor in Berlin. Walk ahead without turning back. Chase the horizon that stretches into infinity, and discover your truest self."
Sam went still. A hint of insanity flashed in his eyes as he turned, glancing at the majestic stallion, who was stamping his hooves against the ground, eyes bloodshot and wide, as if urging Sam to taste the blood of his enemies.
Watching this, Amon's lips curled upward, letting out a soft, quiet chuckle.
"I see..."
Then he turned, glancing at the statue of the one whose will the boy would eventually inherit. Below the statue lay a corrosive yet strangely ethereal sheet, black and flaky, like ash that refused to scatter, as if it were an offering to the one whose name had already been forgotten by the world.
But Blasphemer Amon would never forget His name.
"So it begins..."
He looked down, the smile on His face fading away, replaced by solemnity.
"...Vessel of Malice."
***
[A/N: that's it for the prologue of the second volume. Seriously, writing Adam and Amon is so hard. I had this chapter prepared, but it still took hours, and it's not even that big of a chapter. There isn't any fight or action either, they just talk! Sigh...
So how was it? I mean, how did I portray both of them? Tbh, they're too complex, so I'm not sure if I mischaracterized them or wrote them well.
As for Sam… well, let's just say he'll be going wild. But there will be peaceful arcs too, he needs to learn how to fit into Victorian-era society.
That's it for now. Enjoy the meal.]