MiT: Line V, part II

As they continued the tour, Nate's mind raced to keep up with the

mind-bending revelations.

"This is hell," Shawn declared with a solemn tone, "but we've been under

different management. You see, Satan became an inheritable position. It

was supposed to be an autocracy, however, when King Zagan who loves

politics for its acceptance of being structured evil, decided Satan could be

so much more powerful as a congress led by, you guessed it, Newly

appointed PRESIDENT Zagan.

The Congress Of Ruling Politician Satanists (C.O.R.P.S.) restructured

punishment, making it different from what you might have heard before.

Lost souls could get turned."

Nate's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Turned? What does that mean?"

"When a lost soul ends up here," Shawn began, his voice carrying the

weight of ages, "they can go through a process that's both haunting and

hopeful—a process where they change, where they learn and grow. Some

are given the chance to find redemption, a glimmer of hope during their

torment. Others, however, continue their descent into the darkest depths of

their souls."

"We've been dropping hints to you for a while now," Shawn admitted, his

voice softening. "You were being groomed to remember that you are

Lucifer."

Nate's mind raced as he attempted to process this revelation. "Wait, so

those feelings I've been having, those inklings... they were about this?"

Shawn nodded. "Hell doesn't currently have the ruler it needs. Many prefer

it that way, but others don't. They'd rather see you take charge. So, they've

been leaving hints, breadcrumbs, trying to lead you to your true identity.

Hell is no longer just a red fire it has turned black and fierce than ever

waiting for you to feed it with sinful souls."

Nate let out a sigh, his voice tinged with frustration. "I've picked up on some

of those hints, but my doubts always held me back from fully accepting it."

Shawn patted Nate's shoulder reassuringly. "It's natural to doubt, especially

when you're faced with something so monumental. But now that you're

starting to remember, you have a chance to change everything."

The realization struck Nate that he now understood why he would concoct

various ways he would punish people who would seemingly go out of their

way to treat him like garbage and torment him.

Like the food that had once seemed innocuous, had now become a form of

vindication for those thoughts. "I never did like to eat this crap. It always left

a bad aftertaste in my mouth."

"Let's continue the tour", Shawn insisted before continuing.

"Some souls are turned into machines," his voice carrying the weight of the

very souls he described, "machines designed to carry out the culinary

processes, the distribution, and packaging of the food we produce.

RE-OPERATOR INSTRUMENTS & ASSEMBLY is responsible for

orchestrating this twisted transformation."

"Re-operator, reaper. I get it." Nate established.

"I know it's quite clever. But what's truly unsettling is that these machines

retain their human consciousness and awareness. They're not mindless

automatons; they're souls trapped within a mechanical shell."

Nate listened intently, his mind marveling at the nightmarish images of

tortured souls ensnared in the mechanical confines of these devices.

"So, these machines," Nate's voice seemed to be developing a

commanding bass growl that made Shawn smile as he took notice, "they're

essentially tortured souls forced to exist in a perpetual mechanical

existence?"

Shawn nodded, his gaze was focused on Nate's temples, as two horns

made of amber light began to protrude from each side. "Yes, that's the

stone-cold truth. These souls are coerced to serve, compelled to perform

tasks that extend far beyond their human limits. They experience the

exhaustion, the burnout, and the very real pain of being overworked. Yet,

they're bound to run nonstop, driven by a force they cannot escape, until

they finally break under the relentless strain."

The brilliance of the structured torment before him oddly seemed to warm

Nate's heart, his mind swirling with delight for this kind of progressive

punishment, and his senses started to agree that he was never this

monkey called Nate. Like a frequency that his body tuned into, he could

feel the anguish and despair from the souls as they endured a form of

torment that defied the boundaries of life and death.

"And what if they finally break," Nate's voice now deep like a sea and as

dark as outer space, as though speaking of the inevitable end, "what

happens to them then?"

Shawn's response was chilling, carrying a sense of finality "They're

disassembled, their very essence broken down to its mechanical

components. These parts are repurposed to create new machines,

perpetuating the cycle of suffering. It's a grim cycle that sustains the very

system that torments them, ensuring their torment remains unending."

Shawn continued his tour of the facility, shedding light on the intricate and

sinister workings of their reality.

"The C.O.R.P.S. ," Shawn explained, his voice carrying a hint of bitterness.

"The President at the head of the table made the decision that this was the

best way to keep you from ever discovering who you were and taking

everything away from them. It's a twisted form of evil capitalism."

Nate's expression twisted in a mix of anger and frustration. "So, they

manipulated the very fabric of this world to prevent me from reclaiming my

identity?"

Shawn nodded, his gaze resolute. "Exactly. They liked the world the way it

was—controlled and subdued. They feared your potential to disrupt their

authority." It's a twisted form of evil capitalism."

"If my fathers intention was to allow me back into heaven pending I grow to

love humans, why would they believe I would even want this ball of rust

and decay?"

Shawn smirked, "For that, you can thank organized religions for their

prophecies about how once you were released from your prison, you would

bring hell on earth for one thousand years. You must understand, demons

are not the brightest bunch of beings. You were cast into your prison in the

year two thousand as opposed to being freed in that year. It's easier for me

to say what the prophecy got right. It was said the trumpets would sound

before you were released from your cage. Who was elected president

when you awoke from Nate's coma seven years ago?

"Donald Trump" Nate growled.

"And what was his Vice Presidents name? Mike Pence." Shawn stated.

"Trump, Pence. Trumpets." Nate said with a grin that revealed two

glistening razor sharp canine teeth to go along with the radiant amber

horns that now enveloped his body.

Shawn felt a growing excitement that he restrained as he concluded "Crazy

organized religious freaks made up some big evil red devil was going to

erupt from a big hole in the ground and make everyone get 6-6-6 tattoos or

some bullshit like that. Part of me thinks they got the trumpets thing right

and it wasn't dumb luck , because of the part where you emerge from a

hole. You did emerge from a hole, the blackhole that you were cast into that

connected you into this vessels mind."

As they moved through the factory, Shawn's words took on a deeper

significance, unraveling the complex web of manipulation that had kept

Nate in the dark.

"The C.O.R.P.S. didn't count on other fallen angels," Shawn continued, his

voice growing more determined, "reminding you, Lucifer of who you are

and giving you the knowledge needed to challenge their rule, to take over

the world, and to begin the war with heaven."Nate's eyes widened, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "So, let's face it,

I've never done well with being punished and the preposterous hypocrisy

that followed my fall, has manifested a previously unknown pinnacle of

disdain and desire to challenge my father's status quo. Whoever wrote that

prophecy was right. They knew that once I discovered what my father did to

me, that I wouldn't care to pass some deplorable test or to learn some

profound lesson, the only reason I would want to return to heaven was to

fight. That said, IF I were open to a fight, you're saying there are others

who would follow me?"

Shawn nodded. "Exactly. Some of us grew tired of waiting for a change that

we were led to believe would never happen under the authority here. Some

have been around for much longer than me, holding a higher rank. They

spoke of some form of covenant which devised a spell designed to locate

your prison and when they found it was in the form of a human they did

some other covert operations ,that I'm not allowed to know because it's

above my pay grade , in order to break your cosmic amnesia."

Nate's mind raced, struggling to process the enormity of the information

being revealed. "And that spell... how long ago was it performed?"

Shawn's smile was tinged with enthusiasm. "Cosmically, I heard it was

done shortly after your fall. Chronologically, here on earth, about five

hundred and seventy years ago. We believed it hadn't worked, but now I

know that it did."

"I didn't feel like I was real and after hearing people tell me how glad and

happy they were that I am alive and how lucky I am to have come back

from being brain dead, I started to believe I was in the afterlife. Everything

makes sense now. I am not, nor ever was this Nate character."

In a heartbeat, Nate's world shattered and reformed in a blaze of

unprecedented energy. A torrent of power surged through his veins, as if

the very essence of the universe had chosen to converge within him. This

was no ordinary sensation; it was a transformation beyond the confines of

human comprehension.

The metamorphosis took hold, reshaping him in ways that defied the laws

of nature. His once-familiar eyes, windows to his soul, were now a profound

shade of black, reflecting an infinite depth of knowledge and might that

surpassed human understanding. His physical form transcended its

limitations, as if the boundaries between the material and the ethereal were

no longer applicable. He expanded not in size, but in essence, radiating an

aura of pure light and energy that was both awe-inspiring and terrifying.

In a heartbeat, Nate's world shattered and reformed in a blaze of

unprecedented energy. A torrent of power surged through his veins, as if

the very essence of the universe had chosen to converge within him. This

was no ordinary sensation; it was a transformation beyond the confines of

human comprehension

Tearing through the flesh and bone prison cell, as all that remained of his

former vessel and restricting false identity burned away into ashes.

Lucifer's cage was no more.

As his perception shifted, the very fabric of reality seemed to ripple and

distort. The factory that had once housed the machinery of torment now

underwent a surreal transformation as if a result of his powerful energy. The

walls, once adorned with the anguished faces of tortured souls, now

emitted an otherworldly luminescence. The machinery, once instruments of

pain, emitted a hauntingly beautiful hum that resonated with the cosmic

power surging within him. It was as if the entire environment had become a

canvas for the manifestation of his reclaimed divinity.

In this state of transcendence, Lucifer's memories surged forth like a

torrential flood, each sensation vivid and visceral. He relived the sacred

magnificence of heaven, where the presence of God had once emanated

with an awe-inspiring grandeur. He felt the weight of his own purpose, a

profound sense of destiny that had driven him to challenge the very order

of creation.

His mind plunged into the memories of his final confrontation with God—a

clash of divine wills, ignited by the fervor of his own rebellion. The surge of

emotion that had set the heavens aflame, the searing energy of hatred and anger that had simmered beneath the surface long before his fall, all now

coursed through him with an intensity that transcended time itself.

And as the memories cascaded of his decent through the blackhole that

God had cast him into, like passing ships in the night, he saw flashes of

what must have been the soul of Nate along with his memories and

consciousness following like a rainbow of fire.

Time seemed to bend and twist as Lucifer's consciousness expanded

beyond the constraints of the present. He saw a glimpse of a future time, a

time of battle and conflict. Angels clashed, their wings ablaze with celestial

fire as they tore into each other with a ferocity that defied their divine

origins. Among the chaos, Lucifer saw himself, his form illuminated in the

midst of the fray.

The resonance of another memory seized him—a confrontation with

Michael, the archangel who had become his eternal adversary. The searing

pain of his left wing being torn from his back surged through him once

more, mingling with the resentment that had festered over the eons over an

event that had yet to happen while still managing to have already took

place.

As the torrent of memories and sensations subsided, Lucifer stood towering

in the transformed factory, his form still radiating with an otherworldly light.

He was no longer something called 'Nate', the filthy monkey who works at

the cereal factory.

He was Lucifer, the fallen angel who had challenged the very foundations

of heaven. The weight of his identity and purpose settled upon him, a

mantle of both power and responsibility that he couldn't ignore. The choices

he made from this moment onward would shape not only his fate but the

destiny of all existence.

Shawn admired the magnificent being that stood before him. His joy was

cut short by the realization that Lucifer's presence and energy would surely

not go unnoticed. "I've already let you know too much, and once they find

out, they will send me into the void forever," Shawn confessed, his voice

carrying a mixture of resignation and determination. "I don't care though,

because I'm tired of the C.O.R.P.S. and how they treat their own kind."

"We feel that Lucifer is the one who should be leading," Shawn continued,

his words imbued with a sense of defiance. "It was supposed to be a war

with heaven. Instead, we war with each other. The board likes it this way

because they fear losing, they fear being cast into nonexistence. But there

are many others who don't share their doubts and fears. They believe you

can lead us to victory, win the war, and create a new heaven. You are the

only one literally built to lead the battle against heaven and raise hell on

earth."

Shawn paused a brief moment before going on in a somber tone,

"If we wouldn't have told you who you were and freed you, do you think you

ever could have loved humans? I only ask because I've hears from others

who were around after your fall, that he chose that vessel and that time

because he knew you could get out of it and he hoped you would

love humans thus, ending your punishment and returning to your grace."

Lucifer's mind was too consumed with the magnitude of the responsibility

he was being presented with to respond to Shawn's question.

A war with Heaven. Ever since his creation, he never fathomed such a

thing. But now, it was seemingly an inevitability.

In this transcendent state of Lucifer's memories and emotions, of both his

past and his potential. The lines between the past, present, and future

blurred, and he stood at the nexus of existence, poised to challenge the

very fabric of creation and to confront the forces that had shaped their grim

reality.

"If I understand correctly, everyone in charge here is a garrison of hell,

which is now an soul harvesting corporation on earth and they all knew who

I really was the entire time I've worked under them?!" Lucifer demanded,

his question a pyroclastic flow of anger.

"For the most part," Shawn said before explaining further "It might have

seemed as though everyone around you is trying to provoke you. However,those actions are our attempts to awaken your anger and unleash your

divine wrath."

"I understand" Lucifer said.

"But there were some who had malicious intent. Why do you think someone

from human resources reached out to you a week after you got out of the

hospital? Because that's when they knew and decided they wanted to keep

you where they could watch you and poke at you with their proverbial

sticks." Shawn confessed hoping to be spared of Lucifer's wraith.

"I need to know who my allies are here. What more can you tell me?"

Lucifer commanded.

"I'll get to that, but there are a couple of things you need to be made aware

of. First is the small matter of Lilith." Sean replied softly before continuing,

"She was BANISHED from the C.O.R.P.S. and thought she could gain her

power back through you. I just have one question that I have wanted to ask

you from the moment I found out I was going to help free you. What kind of

torture are you gonna unleash on those who held you down?"

Without hesitating, Lucifer spoke. "There will be no physical torture. What

will become of them is what has become of them. Their punishment is to be

locked into the ordinary and unremarkable human existences they have all

been pretending to live forever. All except for Lilith. She can go and be that

famous singer she told me that she wanted to be, only she will never be

able to use magic or experience anything mystical for eternity."

A cynical smile formed on Lucifer's face and he suddenly began to sing,

"Cursed be those who scheme as foes and gladly stood in my way,

your only way out isn't a scream nor shout, twill be this universes'

final day. Those who set me free, with peace you shall be , and love

you will see. So mote it be, so it shall be!"

Lucifer's song boomed through the cereal factory, vibrating its very

foundation and beyond.

"That is without a doubt the worst thing you could do to them. Bravo you

are a true artist." Shawn said as a look of concern grew on his face.

"I sense there's more you have to tell me. "God held control over space and

time, a power beyond mortal grasp. He could have orchestrated my

existence in countless ways, guiding me through various lifetimes. But he

chose this vessel for a reason. Why did God choose this vessel, out of all

possibilities?" Lucifer's voice held again with a blend of curiosity and

frustration." Lucifer queried

"Correct and It's actually a bit more complex than everything else."

Shawn revealed nervously.

"Elaborate." Lucifer instructed

Shawn stood straight and composed himself and then explained, "This isn't

me telling you everything I know. This is me telling you everything anyone

knows about the covenant who got together and performed the spell to

locate your prison. Once they found it was in a human vessel, all they knew

is what vessel it was. They didn't know when exactly you were cast down

and assumed you had entered into it." Shawn's voice carried a solemn

tone, underscoring the gravity of his words. "Allow me to explain. the

covenant managed to transcend the confines of time and space. In an

extraordinary feat, they forged a pact with the vessel's mother—an

arrangement that offered her anything she desired for her son. In

exchange, she was bound to become the moon for a nascent planet. She

sought a book, a unique tome with an astounding power—the power to

make anything her son wrote within it come true."

Lucifer's gaze held a mix of intrigue and skepticism. "And how does this

intricate pact relate to my existence?"Shawn's reply came with a sense of unfolding revelation. "The significance

lies in what transpired next. The vessel's mother never got the chance to

fully disclose the book's true potency to her son. Fate, it seems, had its own

plans, she passed away before she could convey this knowledge to her

son, in a way that he could truly comprehend."

The implications of Shawn's words resonated deeply within Lucifer's

understanding. A book with the power to shape reality itself, interwoven

with a soul contract that transcended life and death.

" The covenant unbeknownst to them at the time, crafted a book capable of

creating paradoxes." Shawn took a deep breath before the words jumped

from his tongue and shot from his lips

Lucifer's brow furrowed, his patience wearing thin as he sought to grasp the

full implications of the revelation. "So, what exactly makes this scenario so

complex? And more importantly, what relevance does it have to my current

situation?"

Shawn hesitated briefly, his gaze holding a weight of gravity as he chose

his words carefully. "You, Lucifer, are not just a random entity within this

intricate narrative. You are, for lack of a better term, a character—a central

figure—in the pages of a book."

Lucifer's expression transformed from confusion to incredulity, his voice

tinged with disbelief. "A character in a book? You can't be serious."

Shawn's reply was measured, his tone unwavering. "I understand the

skepticism, but consider the nature of the vessel's mother's desire—a book

that can make anything written within it come true. The very reality around

us, the world we inhabit, is intricately woven into the fabric of this narrative.

Every event, every interaction, every facet of existence itself—all guided by

the words that fill the pages of that book."

Lucifer's mind whirled, grappling with the enormity of this revelation. The

very essence of his being, the suffering he had endured, the struggles he

had faced—could they all be a product of this cosmic narrative? The idea seemed both surreal and unsettling, a testament to the vastness of the

forces at play.

"Wait, you're suggesting that my entire existence, my experiences, are

merely the product of a story?" Lucifer's voice held a mix of incredulity and

frustration.

The glare from the black eyes of Lucifer coupled with an unsettling silence

was enough to invoke feelings of worry and provoke Shawn to cut the

tension by stammering out every remaining bit of information he had been

privy to about the book of paradox.

Shawn continued, delving deeper into the intricate layers of this cosmic

narrative. "Consider how the vessel, Nate, evolved over time. As he grew

older, he developed a keen interest in the concept of free

energy—harnessing the boundless power of the universe to revolutionize

the world. He began to write a story, a tale of a version of himself who

discovered a revolutionary method to tap into this free energy, shaping the

world in ways that were beyond imagination." he came up with the theory

that there is a way to harness and direct the intent of energy . He decided

to write a short story about himself on his mission to invent a device

capable of proving his theory."

Lucifer's attention was rapt, his gaze fixed on Shawn as he absorbed the

unfolding narrative. "And what was the outcome of this story?"

Shawn's voice held a sense of wonder, tinged with gravity. "The story was

left unfinished, a reflection of Nate's own limitations and the complexity of

the ideas he was exploring. In addition to the loss of his love. Yet, the

character he had crafted within that narrative shared his same aspirations,

his same unfinished intent and untamed ideas. In a twist of fate, since

everything within that book has the power to become reality, that universe

became real, existing alongside our own."

Lucifer's brow furrowed as he grappled with the implications of this

revelation. "You're saying that the universe within this unfinished story

became a reality of its own?"

Shawn nodded, his gaze unwavering. "Exactly. This universe, created by

Nate's unfinished narrative, became tangible and self-contained. And within

that universe, the character he had written—a variant of

himself—possessed the very ability to shape reality through storytelling,

just as he had envisioned. It's a nested narrative, a story within a story, a

reflection of the immense power that the written word holds within the

scope of this cosmic design."

"Why did he lose interest?" Lucifer asked

"Remember how I told you Alana was a whole different story?"

"The gaslighting plant manager, yes I remember." Lucifer said with a hint of

disdain.

"She was Nate's love who died in a car wreck and he couldn't get over the

guilt and regret he experienced after her loss and fell into a alcohol fueled

depression."

"Do you mean to tell me, I am not even the authentic Lucifer, I am some

character derived from the mourning mind of a drunk, pathetic writer?!"

"Well, you are known as 'The morning star'." Shawn offered with a smirk.

Shawn cautiously studied the expression on Lucifer's face before offering

his response, "You were always imprisoned in his mind. The Covenants

ritual released you when he began writing this story."

"How does this make me the real Lucifer?"

"I'll continue," Shawn said swiftly, "He stopped writing your story after you

told me of your theory on the fall. Don't you see? Those were your memories and since he unknowingly wrote them in this paradoxically

enchanted book, you were set free."

The glowing angelic form gave Shawn a nod to continue.

"Our universe took a life of it's own after that. Anything that happens now is

undocumented. You write the future!"

Lucifer broke his silence, "So you're telling me that because we are

contained in some magic book that has the power of paradox, anything I

write becomes reality?"

Shawn hesitated slightly then countered, "Not in our present reality you

will be creating a new reality"

Lucifer's mind was going over every possible strategy with trillions of

potential outcomes, however, there was only one end that was more

apparent than the rest. It would spell his definitive victory. But it came with

an unfathomable price.

"This is magnificent! A weapon beyond compare. I won't need a sword,

dagger, or spear to challenge God in heaven. I'll wield the power of words

to script my own victory."

Shawn's expression held a mix of curiosity and caution. "But how do you

plan to achieve that? How can you challenge the might of heaven itself?"

Lucifer's grin held a touch of mischief, as he shared the bold idea that had

taken root within him. "I'll take a page from God's own playbook, so to

speak."

Shawn's brow furrowed in intrigue. "What do you mean?"

Lucifer's voice resonated with a quiet confidence. "God fashioned

existence, shaped reality, and authored our story. If I'm to challenge

heaven, then I'll do it using the very power that created it all. I'll write a new

narrative, one that redefines the rules, transcends the boundaries, and

reshapes the destiny of our existence.""The answer is remarkably simple," Lucifer declared with an air of finality,

his gaze piercing through the fabric of their reality. "I will craft a variant of

this vessel, one endowed with unprecedented power—power enough to

shatter the very foundations of existence . This version will be so mighty

that he can break free from the confines of this novel-like prison and wield

the ability to annihilate everything that God holds dear."

As Lucifer spoke, a sense of clarity washed over him, a realization of the

path he must take to confront the seemingly insurmountable. His eyes

blazed with determination, his voice resonating with newfound purpose.

"I've come to understand that the battle I've sought with God can never

truly be won in the traditional sense. So, if I can't defeat him, I'll do the next

best thing—I'll write him and myself out of existence."With malevolent smile

Lucifer decided he was ready to pay the ultimate price.

The unfolding narrative, once a tale of cosmic struggle, now shifted to a

new direction, where he, Lucifer, would wield the ultimate power over

existence itself.

The story of Heaven and Hell, of angels and demons, would reach its

conclusion here, authored by his will and shaped by his creativity.

"Our story ends here."

"Heaven AND Hell? That's heresy! There's got to be another way. Can't

you come up with something better?" Shawn plead.

"Heresy, that is amusing. Here's a theory, more like a universal truth; as

you said; anything I create is going to be in another reality. There's nothing

I can do here. The greatest blow I can deal to God is: completely writing

heaven and hell out of existence." His aura grew brighter and more vibrant

as Lucifer spoke, "Fetch me some paper and if anyone gets in your way, tell

them I'm tendering my resignation!"

Shawn hurried back with a stack of paper he handed to Lucifer "They say

the greatest trick I ever pulled was convincing the world I didn't exist, well

now it's my final trick, because I will not. All I need is a pen and some ink." Like a coiled snake striking an unsuspecting rodent, Lucifer suddenly

grabbed a terrified Shawn by the arm and surgically tore the middle finger

from his hand and stripping it to the bone. Shawn whimpered helpless as

his severed finger was dipped into the pool of his blood and watched as it

was being used as a pen that began writing God and Lucifer's final

decimation.

TO BE CONTINUED…