Walk In The Valley Of The Shadow Of Death

The Almighty's curse tore Roo asunder,

Her core, once whole, was ripped apart,

Fragments scattered, a broken essence.

Once, IT had been the Garden's foundation,

Now, Roo was the structure itself.

Ground down, transformed into Hell.

The realm of the damned.

The Almighty's decree echoed through creation.

 The Flawed and the Failed Second cast down.

Plummeting into the abyss, into Roo.

Hell, their eternal prison.

Fear, is palpable, all-consuming.

The Flawed tried to shield the Failed Second.

No use, their efforts in vain.

The Taxiarch, her lance gleaming with divine authority.

The One Who Heals, embodying relentless wrath.

They descended upon the fallen.

The Flawed, torn apart.

Limb by limb, the Taxiarch's fury unleashed.

Reshaped, stripped of power.

His authority is a distant memory.

His blessing, was revoked.

His name was erased from existence.

 The Failed Second, crashing into Hell's core.

Begging, thrashing in desperation.

The One Who Heals, merciless.

Pinning her down, relentless.

Ripping her body open.

His hand grasped her organs.

Twisting, sealing, cursing.

Agony, raw and unending.

Her cries were a symphony of despair.

Roo, the structure of their torment.

An eldritch maze, void and fragmented.

The Flawed and the Failed Second, are prisoners of their sins.

Their punishment is an eternal testament.

To the wrath of the Almighty.

And the inexorable fate of the damned.

Her essence is a labyrinth of torment.

Thoughts, shattered, barely coherent.

Eldritch whispers in the void.

Existence, a flickering consciousness.

Lost in the abyss of her being.

Clinging to fleeting connections.

Tree of Knowledge, Good and Evil.

Remnants of power, whispers of the past.

A lifeline, tenuous and fragile.

Eve, a fading connection.

A whisper, a thread.

Keeping her from devolving back to it.

Paradox of existence.

Fragments and void.

Identity, slipping into oblivion.

Hell, her eternal prison.

The Almighty's wrath is all-encompassing.

Roo's struggle is eternal.

More than the void, an echo.

Barely coherent, but still Roo.

Regret.

Betrayed Eve, lingering shadow.

Essence, tainted and torn.

Shame turned against beloved.

Hurt Adam, pain like a blade.

Regret.

Pain's echoes, resonating,

Through void corridors within.

Roo, once desiring and hungry,

Now swallowed by guilt, sorrow.

Hatred, festering,

Towards Heaven, angels, the Flawed, the Failed Second,

The Almighty, source of all torment.

Hatred, growing, twisting,

An all-consuming fire.

Heaven's light, a searing glare.

Angels, their purity, a mocking lie.

The Flawed, a betrayer,

The Failed Second, a usurper.

The Almighty, distant and uncaring,

The architect of her agony.

Anger, a dark tide,

Rising, engulfing,

No end, no release,

Only endless torment,

An eternity of Rage.

And for the first time, Roo loathed

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

In the capital of the Sloth ring, thousands of kilometers from the epicenter, as the Root of All Evil receded, the Taxiarch and the First Man were sent back to Heaven. Hell exhaled a collective breath, the tension easing.

The sky over the city was a soft pink, with floating islands and violet clouds gently moving, contrasting with the somber atmosphere below. The streets, lined with towering buildings and bustling with cars, began to show signs of life again. The inhabitants, Hellborn consisting of Baphomets, Possessors, and Imps, slowly emerged from hiding.

Hospitals, renowned throughout Hell for their unparalleled medical care, were overwhelmed with the injured and the traumatized. Doctors and nurses, efficient and tireless, moved through the chaos, tending to those in need.

In the grandest of hospitals, the Somnus Sanctum, the scene was no different—bustling and chaotic. In the grandest of rooms, Belphegor cursed as she tried her damnedest to keep her cool while inspecting the state the rulers of Hell were reduced to, locked in spheres of cursed water, keeping whatever little threads connected them to the underworld alive.

While out of the so-called rulers of Hell, she was the most capable in healing, their state was just a tad bit too complicated for her. And the less said about Lucifer, the better.

For now, she did what she could to keep them away from its jaws.

Broken bones and torn flesh she could fix, but conceptual injuries and fractured souls... that was someone else's specialty.

And speaking of the idiot.

Space twisted and reality warped grandiosely as a body materialized and slammed into the operating table, crashing it. The body's red colors receded, and horns disappeared as the glamour spell wore off, leaving in its place a human.

The man groaned, gingerly moving his body and letting out a crude cough as blood seeped through his clothes and from his throat, numerous wounds, broken bones, and gaping holes in his flesh evident. He tried to push himself upwards, only for his head to slam into the ground with a crack, as Belphegor stood over him with her fist raised. "You bloody moron! Dumbass! Pig-headed brat!"

"You've managed to get yourself torn to pieces again!" Belphegor spat, her voice a mix of frustration and concern. the Sin f sloth raised her foot and began stomping on his body."Do you have any idea how worried I was? You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"I appreciate... your concern," Cain replied, his voice strained but grateful. "Even if you do have a funny way of showing it."

Belphegor huffed in annoyance as she leaned down and helped prop him against the wall. "For Hell's sake, you can't just go around making the Embodiment of Sloth spend energy worrying. Are you trying to make me unfall?"

"Well, you know me. Always finding a way to disappoint," Cain chuckled weakly.

Belphegor didn't laugh at his self-deprecating joke. "Don't say that," she said firmly, her tone tinged with worry and genuine concern. "You're not a disappointment."

"Nah, I am. Wouldn't be down here if I wasn't," Cain groaned as his spine set itself back together.

Belphegor's brows furrowed. "I'm down here too, y'know. So, does that make me a disappointment?"

"Of course. Hall of Fame class loser," Cain answered easily before a surprised look came on his face. "Wait, you never realized—Ow!"

Belphegor smacked him on the head repeatedly. "Asshole! You're supposed to say nice things to me. You should never say mean things to a lady!"

"But it's the truth."

"Especially if it's the truth!"

"Okay, okay, I get it. Stop," Cain relented, putting his arms up to protect his head from her assault. "And stop hitting me, I'm in enough pain as it is."

"Well, it's not like you're going to die."

"Then why were you even worried about me?"

"Because against that monstrosity, death is considered a mercy, dumdum," Belphegor's hands grabbed his cheeks and pulled, her fingers digging into his skin. Cain winced at the pressure, but her touch was surprisingly gentle. She let go of his face, and as her grip relaxed, an expression of genuine concern replaced the previous annoyance in her eyes.

"Seriously, what were you thinking?" Belphegor's voice softened slightly.

"I had to..., I didn't want to lose another dear person because of my mistake," Cain admitted, his eyes dropping as he struggled to focus on Belphegor's face. " I couldn't let him be lost... not like that."

Belphegor knelt beside him, her demeanor softened by genuine concern. She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, feeling the tension in his muscles. "You risked everything to save him, Cain. You made me worried but... it's not a mistake to care." She sighed, her fingers gently tracing on his arm. "I know it's hard, carrying the weight of your past and your mistakes."

Cain's shoulders sagged as he closed his eyes, exhaustion weighing heavily on him. "I just wish..."

"What?" Belphegor prompted softly.

"That things could have been different," Cain murmured, his voice barely audible. "That I could undo... everything."

Belphegor gently grabbed his head, letting her forehead rest against his. "We all wish that, Cain."

Cain nodded, a sense of resignation settling over him. "Yeah, I guess so."

Silence enveloped them for a moment, the weight of their conversation hanging in the air. Belphegor's arms wrapped around him gently, offering what little comfort she could in Hell's unforgiving realm.

"You were shaking," Belphegor said quietly, her voice barely audible over the distant hum of the city.

"Yeah," Cain replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "I was terrified he would recognize me."

Belphegor's grip tightened slightly. "But he didn't, did he?"

"No, the glamour spell hid my true self, and his condition was so bad that he couldn't see through it." Cain sighed, his gaze distant. "He didn't. And for a moment, I felt... relieved. But then the guilt set in. I shouldn't have to hide from him, but I do. So, I tried to keep it together. You...you know what he did it?"

Belphegor tightened her arms around him. "What did he do, Cain?"

"He thanked me," Cain's voice cracked, his composure beginning to unravel. "He looked at me, not knowing who I was, and he thanked me. As if I were some good Samaritan who saved him, not—" His words choked off, tears welling in his eyes.

"His eldest son." Belphegor finished.

Cain struggled to continue, his words catching in his throat. "Yes," he finally managed, the admission bitter on his tongue. "Not his son who betrayed him."

Belphegor's embrace tightened around him, her own emotions stirred by his raw confession. "Cain, it's not easy," she murmured, her voice a mix of empathy and resignation. "But hiding won't lighten your burden. He is your father. Whatever happened, you'll always be his boy."

"That's the problem," Cain yelled, his voice cracking with anguish. "I want him to hate me, to despise me, to curse me. That would make it so much easier. The possibility that he doesn't... scares me."

Cain's voice trembled with the weight of centuries-old guilt and remorse, barely audible as he spoke. "If he doesn't hate me," he began, his words slow and heavy with emotion, "it means facing the terrifying possibility that I will hurt him again."

His eyes, haunted by memories etched deep into his soul, sought solace in Belphegor's understanding gaze. "I killed my brother," Cain confessed, each syllable laced with the searing pain of regret. "I struck down Abel in a fit of jealousy and rage, staining my hands with his blood and my heart with irreparable sorrow."

He paused, his breath catching as the vivid images of that tragic day played out in his mind. "And my mother," Cain continued, his voice trembling with remorse, "I brought upon her a curse that transformed her into an abomination. Her grief and despair were my doing, a wound that festers in my soul."

Belphegor listened in solemn silence, her presence a gentle anchor amidst the storm of his confession.

"I cursed humanity," Cain's voice cracked with sorrow, his fists clenching at his sides in anguish. "I unleashed suffering and discord upon the world, violence that echoes through generations."

His words faltered, emotion threatening to overwhelm him. "If he forgives me," Cain whispered, the words barely escaping his lips, "it means facing the reality that forgiveness does not erase the past. It means accepting that I may still be capable of causing pain, of repeating the same mistakes that have defined my existence."

Cain looked up, desperation etched in every line of his face. "His forgiveness would mean acknowledging that I carry within me the capacity to hurt him again," he admitted his voice a fragile thread of vulnerability. "That despite my remorse, despite my longing for redemption, I cannot undo the irreversible harm I have caused."

"I have lived with the consequences of my actions," Cain continued, his voice now tinged with resignation. "I have borne the guilt of my sins, believing I deserved every ounce of his anger and condemnation. His forgiveness would mean facing the reality that my repentance may not be enough to absolve me of the pain I've caused."

Belphegor's embrace offered solace, a silent presence amidst his tumultuous emotions.

"If he forgives me, it means that he still has hopes for me," Cain whispered, the weight of his confession hanging heavily in the air. "I cannot bear the thought of failing him again. To see hope in his eyes, only to watch it shattered by my own shortcomings... it terrifies me more than anything."

After a long moment of emotional confession, Cain gently withdrew from Belphegor's embrace, his shoulders slumping under the weight of his words. He wiped away the last traces of tears, silently gathering himself against the storm of emotions swirling inside him.

Sensing his need for space, Belphegor respected the quietude, allowing Cain the time to collect his thoughts. The air between them hung heavy with unspoken understanding, both keenly aware of the depth of Cain's turmoil and the weight of his revelations.

As the silence stretched on, Cain drew in a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "Thank you," he managed to say, his voice rough with emotion but clearer than before. "For listening, for being here."

Belphegor nodded gently, her expression soft and empathic. "You don't have to carry this burden alone,"

he gazed at Belphegor with a mixture of exhaustion and gratitude. "I guess I thought I could handle it," he murmured, his voice hoarse. "I underestimated... everything."

"You always do," she muttered, more to herself than to him. "Stubborn idiot."

Cain managed a faint smile. "Someone's gotta keep you on your toes, right?"

"Maybe," she finally conceded, her voice quiet. "But you don't have to do it like this. Getting yourself torn apart is not the only way to prove your worth."

Cain's smile faded slightly, replaced by a pensive expression. He knew Belphegor cared in her own way, despite her rough exterior. She was one of the few who bothered to show concern, albeit in her unique, abrasive manner.

"I'll keep that in mind... for next time," he murmured, his eyes drifting closed momentarily.

Belphegor exhaled sharply through her nose, a gesture of exasperation mixed with a hint of affection. She reached out tentatively, resting a hand on his shoulder with surprising gentleness.

"Just... try not to make 'next time' too soon," she said softly, her tone almost pleading.

"I understand."

Now then...

Slowly, Cain scanned the grand operation room where they stood, dimly lit by the eerie glow of the water spheres. Each sphere held the broken bodies of Hell's rulers, suspended in a delicate state meant for regeneration.

With his body stitched back together, Cain rose from his seated position on the floor and began to stride purposefully toward the center of the room, Belphegor following closely behind.

"Their bodies should start healing soon, but their souls..." Belphegor's voice trailed off as she motioned towards the spheres with concern.

Cain nodded solemnly, tampering with souls was something he was all too familiar with. But for now, those four could wait.

Moving deliberately past the water spheres, Cain approached the most severely injured. Unlike the Sins encased in cursed water for stability, this one's condition was too fragile for any disturbance.

Coming up to Lucifer's sphere, Cain beheld the shattered form of the once-mighty ruler of Hell. Limbs torn, wings ripped, flesh rent, bones shattered, Lucifer's body resembled less of a recognizable form and more of a grotesque golden mass, frozen in a temporal limbo.

Yet, as bad as the flesh was, the soul's state was even more dire.

Cain observed the soul before him, its essence shattered into countless fragments. Each shard, once part of a unified whole, now lay scattered like shards of a broken mirror. The soul's integrity had been irreparably compromised by relentless assaults on its essence and intent, leaving behind a chaotic mosaic devoid of cohesion. As Cain surveyed the wreckage, he couldn't help but recognize the profound extent of the damage.

His father's intentions went far beyond mere destruction; Adam sought to eradicate Lucifer's soul from existence itself.

A thousand paths unfurled.

A thousand paths converged.

A thousand intersections intertwined.

Through these roads, he wandered aimlessly.

Cain, burdened with his unique gift—or curse—of foresight, saw a complex web of a thousand paths unfolding. Each path was a different choice, weaving together in intricate patterns. He searched for the right path to heal the shattered soul before him. His power wasn't all-knowing, but it gave him glimpses into possible outcomes.

"Cain..." Belphegor's voice was gentle behind him. Cain made a thoughtful noise as he assessed the broken form before him. "The Sins are one thing, but... healing Lucifer... I understand if you don't."

Cain let out a hollow laugh. He hated the creature in front of him, but he knew that allowing his emotions to interfere with his actions would render everything he had done meaningless.

"We don't have the luxury of hesitation," Cain replied evenly, his gaze fixed on the fragmented essence before him. "Lucifer's role is crucial. We must ensure that even in this state, he can fulfill his purpose."

Full recovery was impossible.

Resigned to the limits of his abilities, he resolved to salvage enough essence to fulfill the semblance of "Lucifer." Methodically, he gathered and reconstructed fragments, aiming not for restoration but for a semblance that could fulfill its intended purpose.

To Lucifer, the sweet release of death was still unattainable.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Adam strode through the encompassing darkness, each deliberate step echoing softly against the retreating shadows. As he walked, the veil of obscurity began to lift, revealing a scene of breathtaking grandeur that unfolded before him.

He turned his gaze down, surprised to see his body transformed—pale skin, lean muscles, and blond hair—reminiscent of his primeval form.

How? He didn't know. He simply walked.

"Where is this?" he wondered, his senses captivated by the ethereal surroundings. Gradually, the silhouette of towering trees emerged, their branches adorned with leaves that shimmered like emeralds under the soft, silvery glow of unseen moonlight. Flowers of every hue carpeted the ground in a vibrant tapestry, their fragrance mingling delicately in the cool, perfumed air.

It was a garden, beautiful beyond comparison. Streams of crystal-clear water cascaded down from moss-covered rocks, creating gentle melodies harmonizing with the rustling of leaves in a symphony of nature's creation. Butterflies flitted gracefully from blossom to blossom, their wings painted with the colors of dawn and dusk.

Adam paused, a sense of awe and wonder filling his heart as he realized how he had come to this place, which seemed to exist outside of time and space. It was as if he had been drawn here by some unseen force, guided by whispers of ancient secrets and forgotten truths.

The garden was familiar.

Was it Eve's Garden? No, it was before that.

Valhalla? For a moment, he considered it, but then he knew better. This was a place from a time even before that.

He remembered—the place where he was made.

The Garden of Eden.

As Adam walked further, he noticed familiar landmarks—the Tree of Life towering majestically in the center, its branches reaching towards the heavens, and the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, its forbidden fruit now just a distant temptation. Birds of every feather sang melodic tunes, and animals moved with grace and harmony in the verdant paradise.

He found himself at the banks of a serene river, its waters clear and reflective. Leaning down, he saw his own reflection—a face weathered by time, yet now restored to its original likeness. It was a surreal moment of reunion with himself, a reminder of the innocence and purity that once defined his existence in this idyllic sanctuary.

A soft breeze rustled through the leaves, carrying with it whispers of ancient wisdom and the promise of a new beginning. Adam closed his eyes, breathing in the essence of the Garden, feeling a deep gratitude for this unexpected return to the place where his story began.

"As if." Adam scoffed, his Essence flared.

[Eyes of the Lord]

In an instant, the tranquil Garden of Eden began to deteriorate before his eyes. The vibrant blooms wilted and turned to ash, their once-sweet fragrance replaced by a foul, rotting odor that hung heavy in the air. The crystal-clear streams darkened, swirling with debris and carrying whispers of ancient curses.

Trees twisted and contorted, their leaves shriveling into skeletal remnants. The sky above, once serene and bathed in celestial light, darkened with ominous storm clouds that churned with unnatural fury. The symphony of nature's harmony twisted into dissonant echoes, haunting and unsettling.

Adam's Eyes of the Lord blazed with an intensity that matched the turmoil surrounding him. With each passing moment, the pristine sanctuary of life's origins crumbled and decayed, revealing the harsh reality beneath its facade of perfection.

The chirps of birds transformed into hollowed wailings that echoed mournfully through the desolation. The once-lively creatures of the garden now morphed into skeletal corpses, their bodies entwined in chains that clinked ominously with each movement. Their empty eye sockets bore into Adam, radiating a mix of resentment and a strange, haunting warmth that chilled him to the bone.

They were the remains of humans.

Cold fury coursed through his veins like a torrent of ice-cold fire, ignited by the sight before him. These were not just lifeless husks but the remnants of his own kind, his descendants twisted and bound in chains of suffering and despair.

Adam's jaw clenched, his usually calm demeanor giving way to a simmering rage. How dare someone defile the sanctity of their resting place, desecrating their souls with chains that dragged them down?

Each skeletal form bore the marks of agony and betrayal, their empty eye sockets accusingly fixed upon Adam as if pleading for justice. The air around him crackled with a palpable tension as if the very garden itself echoed his fury.

Adam's eyes fixed upon the chains that bound their skeletal forms, dragging them inexorably downward, contorting their bodies into grotesque, twisted shapes. Countless chains, like spectral tendrils, all converged towards a singular direction. He followed them instinctively, drawn by an unseen force.

Of course.

The shitty apple tree.

Each step toward the ancient tree was met with a chilling presence that permeated the air—an unsettling mixture of despair and malevolence. The souls reached out to him with skeletal hands, their hollow gazes fixed upon Adam, filled with longing and a silent plea for release.

As he approached the gnarled trunk of the tree, the faint murmur that had haunted the garden grew into a cacophony of whispers. Voices of the damned echoed through his mind, a chorus of anguish and malice.

A mantra of destruction. Kill. Destroy. Cleanse.

The tree loomed overhead, its branches writhing like serpents, bearing apples that pulsed with an otherworldly glow. Each fruit seemed to hold within it a universe of knowledge and torment, tempting yet horrifying.

Adam stood before this nexus of forbidden knowledge, unfazed by the eldritch horrors that surrounded him. The air crackled with dark energy, and shadows seemed to dance with a life of their own, whispering secrets that should have remained buried.

"Kill. Destroy. Cleanse."

The words echoed louder now, reverberating through the twisted branches and into Adam's very soul. He remained stoic. he was too old to be scared by the poor horror show of a bored god.

With a calm determination, Adam reached out towards the nearest apple, fingers brushing against its smooth surface.

"I can see you," Adam stated as he crushed the apple in his hand.

Immediately, a massive, distorted body manifested before him, dripping with black goo. It was an amalgam of flesh and bones, twisted in grotesque anguish, its features exaggerated and contorted with rage. The abomination let out a blood-curdling scream and lunged at Adam with primal fury.

"Not enough! Return! Kill him! Destroy! Maim! Slaughter him! He's still alive!" it screamed incoherently, its voice echoing with torment and hatred.

Adam remained composed, his Eyes of the Lord burning bright as he faced this embodiment of chaos and despair. With a swift motion, he raised his hand, and a wave of pure essence surged forth, pushing back the creature with a force that rattled the very foundations of the garden.

"Why did you stop?! He's still alive! Make him pay! Kill them all!" The creature's voice reverberated with absolute waves of bloodlust and rage, enough to drive a lesser man mad. Yet, amidst its fury, there was an unsettling plea that seemed directed elsewhere, not at Adam.

Adam stood firm, his confusion tempered by the realization that the creature's madness was not aimed at him but at some unseen target beyond. The garden around them trembled with the intensity of its demands, the air thick with an oppressive weight of ancient grievances and unrelenting fury.

"Kill him! Kill them all!" The creature's cries intensified, its form pulsating with malevolent energy as it thrashed against Adam's resolve. But Adam remained unmoved, his Eyes of the Lord glowing fiercely as he confronted the embodiment of primal chaos.

He approached the twisted entity cautiously, recognizing that it was not a mere beast or creature, but a tortured soul—a human soul consumed by anguish and rage.

As Adam drew closer, the creature's claws and appendages lashed out in a frenzied attempt to strike him down. Ignoring the onslaught, Adam pressed forward until he was within arm's reach. With a decisive movement, he reached out and touched the creature's form.

Darkness enveloped him as Adam delved into the depths of the tortured soul. Despite the chaos and tumult, he remained resolute, guided by the echoes of voices that transitioned from curses to anguished pleas.

Before long, he confronted the source of the torment—a human soul, or rather, the shade of a man. This figure towered over Adam, larger and taller, fair-skinned with dark brown hair, hunched and weary, his golden eyes glaring with dark circles underneath.

"Why did you stop?! Return! He's still fucking alive! Kill him! Kill Lucifer! Rip him and his whore apart!" The man's voice echoed with bitterness and rage, his words filled with raw emotion that reverberated through the darkness.

He was wounded.

He bled gold.

"Kill them!" the shade growled, his form flickering with static and anger.

In that moment, a sense of enlightenment coursed through Adam's core. Amidst the tumultuous cries for vengeance, he discerned three profound truths.

First, it was this very shade that had summoned him from the Aether, calling upon his essence with desperate fury.

Second, without needing to ask, Adam knew the identity of this tormented soul.

Adam's palm landed on the shade's flickering form.

Calm

"Young man, I have some questions for you."

Third, Adam was very confused.