LUCIUS
I get it now.
These so-called gods... were, probably still are, just a bunch of spineless, cowardly wretches. To think, rather than fight their own battles, they sent their own creations, their own sons and daughters, to war.
For what?
Research.
Just to observe. To learn. To gain.
That's not just selfishness. That's cruelty, refined into an art.
And yet... I'll admit it. The strategy? It's genius in the worst way imaginable. Creating a weaker species, gifted with the same connection to mana, only to use them like disposable lab rats in divine warfare—it's monstrous, but it's clear. Calculated. Efficient.
Disgusting.
"Wait," I frowned, the question forming faster than I could catch it. "If these gods are the supreme deities of our world, why even chase more power and knowledge? Their sole creations—angels—were much weaker, right?"
I could already guess the answer. Maybe that's why the First Angel never got the order to end the war, even after mowing down entire legions. Because no matter how far he rose, the masters were always higher. A god could erase an army of angels with a glance. And the war was never about defeating gods.
It was about harvesting knowledge from the chaos below.
Arcane's voice came like the whisper of a half-buried secret.
"Like I said... these gods were just a branch of creation. The tree? That's mana itself."
I stared, breath caught halfway.
"I don't know the full history," he admitted. "But I do know one thing—gods had enemies. Real ones. You don't plan this extensively, hoard this much power, unless you're motivated. Or scared."
That landed hard.
"Maybe..." I ventured, a wild theory forming. "Maybe their enemies were the Supreme Gods. The ones who really run heaven. The puppetmasters of even the divine."
Arcane's smile was faint but sharp.
"Good theory," he said, voice low. "But unlikely. The Supreme Gods were only a handful... but they were supreme for a reason. You understand?"
That hint was all I needed.
They weren't just silent observers.
They approved the war. They let it happen.
Because they, too, had something to gain.
My heart stopped.
No way...
"Just like how the lesser gods learned from the angels, the Supreme Gods... they must've done the same," I said, voice rising. "I mean—they're gods, sure. But their nature? Their connection to mana? It's identical!"
Arcane nodded, lips tight.
Right again. Nailed it.
God damn, I'm on fire. I deserved the silent praise echoing in my mind.
"Arcane!" I snapped, practically leaning forward. "Come on, continue! I need the rest of this story!"
He chuckled softly, like a bard pulling a tale from an old wound.
"Alright, alright... where was I?"
"You were at the First Heavenly War."
"Ah, yes... the massacre."
His tone darkened.
"The First Son heard the news. His home city. His friends. His family... all hanged, their bodies paraded around the domain he had once protected with everything he had."
Arcane's words slowed, like they weighed too much to carry.
"He was filled with rage. And regret. The kind that poisons your bones. But he couldn't act—not yet, wasn't able to, until one day... a desperate rescue mission, carried out by the shattered remnants of his old battalion... pulled him from hell."
He paused.
Long enough to make my heart thud in protest.
I whispered, "Then what happened?"
Arcane didn't answer right away. His gaze was distant, lost somewhere I couldn't follow.
"That's the part I don't know," he finally said. "The ancient scripts are broken there... like someone intentionally erased that chapter."
Chills crawled down my spine.
"The First Son vanished into the shadows. Took his most loyal with him. The rest of the world assumed he was dead. Or worse. His own master said nothing—because if the truth leaked, if it got out that he had escaped... the balance would break again, and his authority would be questioned, again."
"Time passed. The war raged on. Bloodier. Uglier. The angels, once countless, were dying off, their population crashing under the weight of their creators' indifference."
And then...
"One day, his group surfaced again," Arcane said softly. "They stormed the palace of a god. Not just any god. Their own Master, creator and father."
My breath caught.
"And they tortured him," Arcane continued, eyes hard. "To death. Alongside his family. His children. His court."
There was no rage in his voice. No triumph.
Only quiet.
And that made it all the more terrifying.
"Soon, the news spread like wildfire, setting entire domains ablaze—not because the gods feared the loss of one of their own, but because the first son's domain was far more than a mere possession. It was a paradise, a collection of treasures, secrets, and powers—everything one would hope to find in their own graveyard. Artefacts beyond mortal comprehension, spells forged from the very core of existence, beasts of untold strength—all the things that whispered of divinity and dominion over realms. It was a domain too perfect to ignore, too vast to let slip from their control.
So they sent their armies.
Millions of angels.
The same celestial warriors once trusted to protect, now called upon to reclaim the first son's fallen empire. Not to mourn his passing. Not to honour his legacy. But to conquer what he left behind.
Yet, to the surprise of all, no blood was spilt. No swords were drawn. No spells rang out, shattering the heavens.
The celestial legions that were supposed to fight for the gods?
They united.
Under one banner.
Under one domain.
Under the leadership of one figure.
Lucifer. 'The Chosen One'.
Somehow, the creations, those lesser beings born of divine command, were no longer subservient. They had transcended. Lucifer, the very servant meant to kneel, had become something beyond even the gods' reckoning. Not only Lucifer, but many of his loyal followers had grown in strength, wielding power that the gods believed impossible for such beings to possess.
Slowly, methodically, Lucifer's legion began to move—unhindered, unstoppable.
The domains of the gods began to fall. One by one, the inner gods were dragged from their golden thrones, tortured, broken, and ultimately slain. The angels, those once devoted warriors, refused to fight for their masters. Not after Lucifer had revealed their true nature. Not after they saw what lay beneath the divine façade.
Without the angels, the gods were defenceless.
Some tried to fight back. Some tried to flee.
Some even attempted to negotiate with Lucifer, to appeal to whatever remnants of mercy he may have had left.
The result was the same.
A slow and painful death. Not just for the gods, but for their families, their creations, those who remained loyal to them."
Damn. That's the kind of story that people love, the one everyone admires and roots for.
But... Lucifer? Isn't that the...
"Within a few decades," Arcane continued, his voice barely a whisper in the still room, "Lucifer had conquered thousands of domains. Thousands of inner gods were slaughtered, and along with them, their followers, their kin, their children. The carnage spread far and wide. A bloodstained path marked by shattered realms, the wreckage of civilisations, and the echoes of forgotten gods."
"And yet," he added, "the Supreme gods didn't interfere at first. They observed. From their heavenly thrones, they watched. They collected data, analysed Lucifer's rise, and tried to decipher how a mere servant could gain such power. They were too slow to react. Too arrogant to recognise the threat until it was far too late, a common mistake every being makes, not acting on time."
"By the time they realised how gravely they'd underestimated Lucifer, how they'd allowed him to grow stronger than they could ever anticipate, it was too late. The Chosen One had already set his sights on the true enemy: the architects of the cosmos, the Supreme beings who ruled the very fabric of existence."
I listened intently, trying to process the magnitude of what Arcane was saying. This was more than just a story of betrayal or revenge. It was a tale of cosmic upheaval, of forces far beyond mortal comprehension. It was a war between the gods and something far more terrifying—a creation that had gone beyond its creators.
"They didn't stop there," Arcane went on, wiping his lips. "Before Lucifer declared war on the Supreme gods, he gave the angels—those divine warriors who had once served the heavens—a final chance to join him. He offered them a place by his side to stand against their former masters. And guess what they did?"
My mind raced. I paused, then guessed, "They refused?"
Arcane's expression shifted. His eyes, once casual, were now locked onto me with an intensity that made the hairs on my neck stand up.
"How did you know?" he asked, his voice a low growl.
I shrugged, though I felt anything but casual. "Just a guess."
But Arcane wasn't done. He didn't break his stare. "The angels refused. Not because they didn't believe in Lucifer's cause, but because they knew, deep down, the corruption that had consumed him, and would them too, if they accepted his offer, no matter how fair and tempting it felt. Lucifer had become evil—his followers too. Vengeance, rage, hunger, and regret had clouded their once-pure hearts. But the angels were different. They represented things like goodness, loyalty, integrity—the virtues Lucifer had once embodied. They couldn't side with their fallen comrades. They couldn't become the very thing they aren't just for vengeance, especially when they themselves had no clue how Lucifer was able to gain such strength...
And so...The Great Heavenly War broke out. The angels, led by their own commanders, joined the Supreme gods, and a war began that would shake the heavens to their core."
"Lucifer, with his ever-growing legions, faced them head-on. The battle was brutal, endless. The skies darkened, the heavens quaked. The war lasted for centuries. It wasn't a fight between equals. It wasn't even a battle of powers—Lucifer was too strong, his command over mana too perfect. The gods and angels couldn't defeat him alone."
"In the end, they realised it wasn't about winning. It was about survival. Lucifer was too strong now. He was the embodiment of mana itself—unstoppable. The Supreme gods and their celestial hosts had no choice but to banish him, to cast him and his legions into the void through deception, a forsaken realm you're probably familiar with… Hell."
"And so, the First Heavenly War ended. The gods remained, but their image, their majesty, was forever tainted. They couldn't erase the scar left by Lucifer's revolt."
I was quiet for a long moment. The enormity of Arcane's words hung in the air. This wasn't just a story. This was history. The rise and fall of beings far greater than any mortal could imagine.
But there was something more, something beneath the surface of this tale. A tension that I could feel, crawling under my skin.
"So why are you telling me this?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. I was beginning to feel like I was standing on the edge of something vast, something I wasn't sure I could comprehend.
Arcane paused, his expression unreadable. And for a moment, I thought he wouldn't answer. But then, slowly, he leaned forward. His eyes locked onto mine.
The story was powerful. Maybe too powerful.
And yet… I couldn't help but notice something else.
This wasn't just some epic tale he told for fun.
He picked this story now for a reason.
I had a hunch. But I didn't say anything.
I waited.
Because the worst part wasn't Lucifer's story.
It was why I was hearing it right now.
And a small part of me…
Was terrified that history was about to repeat itself, somehow.