Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Adam… thou shalt be thy name .” These were the first words he ever heard, reverberating through the formless void of his newly awakened mind. The voice was soothing, yet the gravity of the words pressed down on him like the weight of eternity.

The first rays of light pierced through his eyelids, harsh and blinding, as his lungs filled with the sweetness of unspoiled air. It was fresh, pure, and calming. But within him, there was no calm. His thoughts churned in a storm of confusion, fear, and something unfamiliar — something akin to awe.

“Adam…” another voice spoke, soft but commanding, pulling him from his swirling unease. His eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the brilliance around him. 

What he saw was beyond comprehension: radiant figures standing over him, their forms emanating light so blinding it made the sun seem pale. They observed him intently, their gazes piercing through his frailty and into something deeper.

His soul.

‘What is a soul?’

He did not know, though he felt its vulnerability under their scrutinizing eyes.

“It is with profound honor to finally meet you.” The voice, gentle yet burdened with celestial authority, belonged to one of the figures who stepped forward. Adam craned his neck, his trembling form still bound to the ground as he looked up.

“I am a member of the Most High’s court, leader of the first order of Heaven's choir.” She stood regal, her hands folded in perfect grace. Her gown, pure white with crystalline threads that caught and scattered the light, seemed woven from starlight itself. 

“My name is ነቹዪልየⶴጎጮ” her voice rang out in a language far beyond mortal tongues, a cacophony of holy tones that twisted in his mind.

He winced, his mouth instinctively trying to form the impossible sounds. His futile attempt drew a ripple of laughter from the figures, their amusement carrying no malice, only delight.

“But you may call me Sera,” she said, extending a hand toward him.

Her presence was overwhelming, yet he felt an inexplicable pull to her offered hand. Wary, yet compelled by an innate trust he could not explain, he reached out. Her touch was cool, firm yet gentle, as she helped him rise to his feet. For the first time, he stood, taking in the majesty of the world around him.

“And welcome to the Garden of Eden,” she said with a faint smile.

The words hung in the air like a promise. He turned his gaze, drinking in the wonders of the sanctuary: a paradise where the grass was ever green, the waters ceaselessly flowed, and the sun bathed everything in its golden light. Every sense was indulged, every need anticipated. 

It was perfect — almost.

Days turned to weeks, and he grew into the rhythms of life in Eden. He cared for the plants, tended to the animals, and explored the garden’s endless marvels. Yet, there were moments — quiet, fleeting moments — when he found himself staring into the distance, his thoughts unbidden.

Though he could not articulate it, something was missing. Despite the perfection that surrounded him, his heart ached with an emptiness he could neither name nor understand. He often placed a hand over his chest, where the dull, unrelenting ache resided.

‘What is this feeling?’… ‘And why does it hurt?’

The divine beings who watched over him noticed. They saw what even he himself could not — an unfulfilled longing that grew with each passing day. They whispered among themselves, deliberating, until at last, they took action.

It was another dawn in Eden, the air sweet with the scent of blossoms, when Sera approached him by the stream where he sat in contemplation. He gazed into the rushing water, hoping its ceaseless flow might soothe the ache within.

“Adam…” Sera’s voice was gentle but insistent, drawing him from his reverie. He turned and saw that she was not alone. Beside her stood another figure — a being unlike anything he had seen before.

The woman was radiant, her pale-lilac skin shimmering faintly in the sunlight. Her hair, a cascade of blonde streaked with platinum, caught the dawn’s light like molten gold. But it was her eyes that ensnared him: two deep pools of blue that seemed to hold the mysteries of eternity.

“There is someone I want you to meet,” Sera began, her tone soft yet filled with purpose. “The Most High has heard your unspoken prayers.”

He frowned, flummoxed. Prayers? He had never uttered such things. How could he ask for what he did not even understand?

“Do not fret,” Sera reassured him. “The Almighty knows the deepest yearnings of your heart, even when you do not. And so, you have been given this gift — companionship.”

The woman stepped forward, hesitant yet graceful, her every movement exuding a beauty that left him speechless.

“She will stand by your side,” Sera continued, “to share your burdens, your joys, and your journey. She is fashioned from the same clay as you, to live as one and whole.”

For a moment, time seemed to pause as man and woman stared at one another. The world faded, leaving only the two of them, bound by an invisible thread that neither understood but both felt.

“Hello, I am Lilith,” she said, her voice as soft as a whispering breeze.

His lips parted, but the words did not come. Instead, he could only nod, his heart pounding as if it had finally found its purpose.

“Hey, I am…”

“Adam…”

But paradise, though perfect, is never without its trials. As time passed, he noticed a subtle shift. It all started when he stumbled upon the company of another higher being named Samael, an entity brimming with joy that was as radiant as the morning sun, and shone as bright as a burning star.

Lilith, once inseparable from him, began to drift. Her laughter, her light — it seemed to shine elsewhere. And where she went, Samael was often close behind.

The winged being was a frequent visitor, his six luminescent wings fluttering with unrestrained energy. He would tease the First Man, urging him to abandon his tasks and explore the garden’s unknown corners.

“You’re wasting your time cleaning leaves and trimming hedges,” Samael would say, his voice dripping with mischief. 

“Why not enjoy more than what the Garden has to offer? Let me show you what lies beyond the boundaries of your little routines.”

But he refused. He had his duties, his purpose. Eden required care, and he was its steward.

One day, Samael scoffed, his tone laced with irritation. “Suit yourself. I’ll go find Lilith. At least she knows how to have fun.”

The words lingered, cutting deeper than he cared to admit. He had seen it — the growing closeness between Samael and Lilith, the whispered conversations, the stolen glances. The bond he had once shared with her now seemed a distant memory, fraying at the edges.

Had he failed her? Was he not enough? 

These questions haunted him as he toiled in the garden, his hands tending to the earth while his heart withered within.

And then, the truth came, sharp and unrelenting, leaving him to confront the unbearable pain of what he had lost and what had been unveiled.

“Adam…”

The voice reached him like the faintest whisper, yet it broke the stillness that enveloped him. Sera found him perched atop a jagged cliff, far from the reach of eavesdropping ears and curious eyes. 

He sat there, shrouded in solitude, the cool wind of Eden carrying away the soft sounds of his quiet sobs. His sorrow poured forth in freshly shed tears, each drop bearing the weight of a heart broken beyond repair.

“I apologize for what Samael has done,” Sera said gently, her words laden with genuine remorse. But her voice seemed distant, lost in the storm raging inside him. He clung to himself, arms wrapped tightly around his knees as though trying to shield his fragile heart from the relentless ache.

‘What is this agony I’ve been afflicted with? This aching in my heart?’

The question repeated in his mind, gnawing at him. It was as if the pain was too great to understand, let alone endure.

Sera knelt beside him, unwilling to leave him in his despair. She reached out, hesitating for only a moment before wrapping him in her embrace. Her arms encircled him like a shield, her warmth breaking through the icy numbness of his grief. She whispered soft, soothing hushes into his ear, her voice as steady and nurturing as a lullaby.

For a moment, he resisted. He wanted to stay lost in his pain, alone in his sorrow. But Sera’s presence was unyielding, her care unshakable. 

And then, as if her compassion unlocked the floodgates, the dam holding back his emotions shattered. He wept — truly wept — his sobs echoing across the cliffside. This time, however, he was not alone.

‘I never truly am,’ he realized, his tears soaking into her dress.

The guardians of Heaven acted swiftly, driven by both guilt and love for the first human. They sought to mend what had been broken, to restore balance and harmony of the First Man’s fractured existence. 

One night, as he slumbered beneath the stars of Eden, a piece of him was taken — a single rib, small yet imbued with the essence of his being.

This fragment was sent to the Almighty, who molded it with infinite care and breathed into it a new life. From the rib, a creation was born — not simply from the earth like him, but from his very flesh, his very essence.

“Adam…”

The voice called to him again, familiar yet imbued with a newfound hope. He turned, his heart aching with a mix of apprehension and curiosity. 

Before him stood an unfamiliar figure — a woman of radiant beauty. There was something about her, something unspoken yet undeniable, that drew him in. He felt an inexplicable connection, as though her presence filled an emptiness he had not known how to name.

“You must be wondering who this little one is,” Sera said, her voice echoing the lingering sorrow still etched in his heart. “Heaven has acknowledged its mistake, Adam. What happened with Lilith… and Samael… it was our failure. But the Almighty has chosen to make amends.”

The woman stepped forward, her movements imbued with grace and quiet confidence. He regarded her with hesitation, his heart still raw from betrayal. But the way she looked at him — with neither fear nor judgment — stirred something within him.

“You must have felt it when you woke,” Sera continued, her voice soft yet firm. “That ache in your chest. It was not just the loss — it was the absence of something meant to be whole.”

His hand instinctively rose to his chest, to the place where the ache had once throbbed each morning. He looked back at the woman, their gazes meeting for the first time. Her eyes were green, shimmering with warmth and depth. They met his own golden eyes, a striking contrast: one a creation of Heaven, the other of the earth itself. Yet, somehow, they were perfectly aligned.

“Meet Eve,” Sera said, her voice gentle yet filled with purpose. “She is crafted not just from clay but from you, Adam — from your very rib. She is your true half, your partner in all things. She is made to walk beside you, now and forever.”

Adam stared at Eve, his emotions a whirlwind. He wasn’t ready to accept her fully — not yet. The sting of Lilith’s absence, the betrayal that had fractured his trust, still lingered like a shadow over his soul. But neither could he turn away from this new blessing, one created with such care and intention.

He nodded slowly, his voice too fragile to form words. Perhaps, in time, he could find a way to embrace this second chance.

Days turned into weeks, and memories began to blur like fragments of a distant dream. Adam and Eve wandered the garden together, their laughter ringing through the air as they frolicked among the flora and fauna. With Eve, Adam found himself teaching and sharing everything he knew. He poured his heart into their bond, determined to cherish her as he had failed to do with Lilith.

For a while, it seemed as though the wounds of the past had begun to heal. The garden felt alive again, its splendor no longer tinged with melancholy. He swore to himself that this time, he would not falter. He would hold onto Eve, no matter what trials lay ahead.

But Eden’s peace was fleeting. Life, even in this renewed paradise of his, is not without its twists and tragedies.

“Adam…”

The voice of Heaven called to him once more, breaking the illusion of serenity. Adam stood in the heart of the garden, surrounded by the court of Heaven. Their faces, though radiant, bore somber expressions. Even through their divine glow, their sadness was palpable.

“You must decide,” Sera said, her voice steady yet tinged with sorrow. “Will you forsake the will of Heaven? Will you abandon Eden — all you have ever known — to stand by Eve’s side, knowing the risks?”

Adam’s heart ached, but his resolve did not waver. He nodded, his jaw clenched with determination.

“So be it,” Sera whispered, her voice heavy with finality.

From that moment on, his life became a crucible of hardship. Exiled from Eden, cast into a harsh and unforgiving world, he faced trials that would test every fiber of his being. The earth itself seemed to turn against him, yet he endured — because he was not alone. Eve stood by his side, and together they bore the burdens of their choice.

“Adam…”

He heard the voice again, faint but familiar. His body, once weighed down by the struggles of mortality, now felt light. Pain, regret, and suffering seemed to fade away, leaving only a profound sense of peace.

Before him, a brilliant light illuminated the heavens. He found himself standing amidst a sea of clouds, facing a gilded gate that shimmered like pearls upon an emerald sea. The air was filled with the harmonious songs of a celestial choir, their voices a balm to his weary soul.

The gates opened, and through the radiant glow, Adam saw a figure he had not seen since his fall. Sera stood before him, her arms outstretched and her smile filled with pride and joy.

“Welcome home, Adam,” she said, her voice brimming with warmth. “You are the first human soul to ascend to Heaven and cross the pearly gates.”

He stepped forward, his heart finally at rest. The struggles of the past were but a distant memory now, replaced by the eternal promise of peace and reunion.

“Adam…”

The voice broke through the haze of his thoughts, pulling him from the confines of his restless mind. He sat at the very edge of Heaven, as far from the celestial court as his spirit could wander, the borders of paradise looming faintly in the distance. Here, on the precipice of eternity, he sought solace in the solitude, far from prying eyes and whispers of the Divine.

The memory stirred as though drawn from the depths of a forgotten well. His first days in Heaven had been spent learning the ways of the just, observing the righteous order maintained by those tasked with keeping evil at bay. He had watched, listened, and questioned. Yet now, he was a far cry from that eager soul.

He sat listless, as though waiting for some unseen spark to reignite the fire within him. His gaze was fixed beyond the borders of Heaven, toward the distant unknown, as he contemplated the gnawing ache within his heart. He wanted to believe that one day, the person he yearned for most would ascend, that she would finally return to his side.

But she never came.

Another of his descendants arrived instead, the second soul to ascend the golden staircase into paradise. He greeted them with a bittersweet smile, welcoming them into Heaven’s embrace. But they were not the one he had longed for, and so the waiting continued — days turning to centuries, centuries to lifetimes.

“I can’t stand to watch you waste away like this any longer,” a voice interrupted his thoughts one day.

He turned to see a celestial figure standing behind him, their six radiant wings spreading a holy glow that illuminated even the darkest shadows of his heart. But the brilliance of their presence could do little to pierce the grief that weighed him down.

“Why was I the first?” He whispered, his voice raw and quiet. The question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken doubts.

“You are the First of Humanity because the Almighty deemed it so,” the celestial replied firmly. “You were the first to be blessed by the Divine. The First to be given purpose.” 

“And the First to be worthy in the eyes of Heaven and the Most High.” They declared, profoundly articulating every word.

His lips pressed into a thin line. He wanted to believe those words, but doubt clung to him like a shroud. “Then what of my children?” he asked. “Were they not worthy? Were they not enough for Him?”

The celestial’s expression softened, though their tone remained resolute. “The will of the Lord is not for us to question, Adam. It is for us to follow. Trust in His decree, and be patient, for all things work together for your good.”

But Adam had grown tired of patience. He had waited an eternity, and still, his heart was hollow. He stood, his resolve burning in his chest as he made his choice.

“Oh?” The celestial raised a brow, a faint smile tugging at their lips. “Does this mean you will finally take my advice?”

Adam nodded, his gaze steady, his determination unshakable.

“Very well,” they said. Their voice shifted, becoming firm and commanding, resonating with power. “But know this: the path ahead is perilous. Each challenge will test the limits of your spirit, far exceeding the trials you faced as a mortal. I fear that your will may not be enough.”

The being approached, their wings folding around them as they stepped closer. “I will make you as strong as the stones in the valley, as unyielding as the mountains. I will train your spirit to burn like fire, your resolve to flow like rivers that break all chains. And I will push you until your soul is as pure as the light that encompasses Heaven itself.”

They paused, their gaze steady. “What say you, O’ First of Man? Are you still willing to undertake this trial?”

Adam met their eyes without hesitation. His answer was clear.

“Adam…”

He stood on the edge of Heaven’s sanctuary, clad in gleaming armor, his eyes fixed on the shadowed abyss below. The screams of the damned mingled with the cries of the innocent, their discordant chorus rising like smoke. Around him, the army of Heaven gathered, their weapons shining with the light of a thousand stars.

“You still have a choice,” said a voice beside him. Adam turned to see a friend, one of his closest companions, their expression heavy with concern. “You can step aside, Adam. Let the others face this battle. I know how much the tapestry of pain below burdens your heart.”

Adam’s jaw tightened. He looked down into the abyss, where the souls of his descendants writhed, tainted by sin. The weight of their suffering pressed against him, but so too did his resolve.

“Your words are wasted,” he replied, his voice steady. “I refuse to stand by and grieve another day. Those below are my kin, and smiting the wicked among them is my burden to bear.”

His companion nodded, donning their helmet as the blare of Heaven’s trumpet sounded. “Very well.”

Centuries of battle and toil hardened Adam’s heart, each strike of his blade carving away pieces of the man he once was. He carried out Heaven’s will, quelling the swelling ranks of the damned, but the victories felt hollow. Regret became a constant companion, whispering of the choices he could not undo.

Over time, Adam’s grief transformed into a mask, both literal and figurative. He crafted an ornate visage to cover his face, hiding his sorrow behind an expression of strength. To the court of Heaven, he remained a steadfast soldier, unyielding in his duties. But inside, his heart grew colder, the ache unrelenting.

He began pushing others away, his mask becoming not just a shield but a barrier to those who tried to reach him. Even his descendants, those who approached him with the wonder and admiration of children meeting their forefather, found themselves met with a distant, stoic figure. The warm, eager man who had once embraced the first days of Heaven was gone, replaced by someone unrecognizable.

“Adam…”

The voice came again, but this time it carried an urgency that cut through the haze of his isolation. He found himself summoned to the celestial court, their gazes no longer harsh but filled with something deeper — fondness, and even sorrow.

“The uprising of the damned has threatened to upset the balance of Heaven and Earth,” one of them declared. “Though the forces of Heaven emerged victorious, we fear the lengths to which our enemies will go to disrupt this fragile peace.”

Adam bowed his head. “What would you ask of me?”

The silence that followed was deafening. The celestial beings hesitated, their reluctance palpable. They did not want to place this burden upon him, but Adam already knew what was required. This was his duty — one that only he could fulfill.

As the centuries passed, Adam’s solitude deepened. He smiled less, spoke less, and though he fulfilled his duties, the ache within him never faded. He had become a shadow of himself, a relic of a distant past that seemed more dream than memory.

He often wondered if he was still the man his Father had once deemed worthy. But he buried those doubts deep, hiding them beneath the mask he wore for both Heaven and himself.

And so, he continued, a lone figure in paradise, ever waiting, ever wondering if he would find the peace that had eluded him for so long. For now, he simply waited, for whatever chaos would rise next.

“Lucifer had sired a kid.” A voice chimed behind him out of nowhere.

He stared back at the messenger, baffled at the revelation before a single word, surmising every emotion within him, left his lips.

“... Fuck.”

The battlefield was silent now.

Adam floated high above the desolation, his golden wings outstretched, their light a defiant contrast to the shadows of Hell below. The aftermath stretched endlessly beneath him — a gruesome canvas painted with the blood of the damned. It clung to the jagged ground in thick, blackened pools, viscous and glistening under the faint glow of molten fissures that split the earth like scars. The mangled bodies of his kin — those who had fallen into sin and debasement — were strewn across the landscape, their forms broken beyond recognition.

This was the result of the annual slaughter.

The task had become routine: a relentless purge of the wicked, carried out with precision by his blade and the unwavering discipline of his army. The judgment was righteous, Heaven decreed it so. Yet, as Adam surveyed the devastation, a familiar ache gnawed at the edges of his mind.

These were his descendants. His blood. His kin.

Every year, he returned to this hellish battleground to carry out the Almighty’s will. Every year, he wielded Heaven’s fury against those who had forsaken their humanity. Yet even as his blade cleaved through flesh and bone, the weight of it grew heavier.

Justice, he told himself. This was justice.

His army hovered nearby, their weapons still slick with the viscous blood of the slain. The luminous glow of their forms flickered in the infernal air, a stark reminder of their divine nature. Though they awaited his command in reverent silence, Adam could feel their unspent fervor crackling in the air, unchecked and raw.

They spoke of their eagerness to continue, to finish the job, to rid existence of sin entirely. Adam silenced them with a mere glance, his piercing gaze still commanding absolute authority despite the exhaustion radiating from him. Their task was done, their duty fulfilled.

Hell will be silent — for now.

Adam signaled his personal army to return, to vacate from this forsaken realm and ascend back into paradise. Where they will wait until the time comes again for them to cull Hell’s numbers once more.

As they crossed into Heaven’s bounds, Adam dismissed them with a gesture. The soldiers scattered, some reluctantly, others gratefully, eager for a reprieve from the horrors of war. Adam lingered in the golden expanse, the warm light of Heaven washing over him, but it offered no comfort. His mind was still tethered to the desolation they had left behind.

“Adam…”

The voice pulled him from his thoughts. Sera stood nearby, her expression tight with unease. She was always calm, always composed, but today, there was something else — a shadow of worry that even she couldn’t entirely mask.

“There’s another matter I need to discuss with you,” she said, her voice soft but steady. Adam nodded, gesturing for her to continue, but she hesitated.

“Not here,” she finally said.

Understanding, he dismissed the lingering Exorcists with a glance, and together they moved into a secluded chamber. The space was serene, free from the noise of Heaven’s endless expanse, but the quietude did nothing to settle the storm brewing in Adam’s chest.

“What the fuck is it this time, Sera?” he snapped as he sank into a chair, slouching with an air of defiance. His words hung in the air like a challenge, sharp and jagged, cutting through the room’s tranquility.

Sera’s composure slipped, a rare flash of frustration crossing her face. “Language, Adam,” she snapped, her tone sharper than usual. “I don’t want Emily picking up on your crude speech. She’s already impressionable enough as it is.

Adam let out a derisive snort, leaning back with exaggerated nonchalance. “Oh, piss off, Sera. You’re always coddling her. She’s centuries old — how long are you planning to keep her sheltered? You know damn well she can’t stay oblivious forever. She’s going to have to face reality eventually and see life as it truly is; ugly, brutal, and unforgiving.”

“Adam, enough,” Sera replied, her voice strained with exasperation. “I don’t interfere with how you handled your descendants, so kindly afford me the same courtesy with Emily.”

Adam flinched, her words cutting deeper than she likely intended. “Low blow, Sera,” he muttered bitterly. “Not like I had much of a choice with most of them. You know damn well why they turned into the filth I end up slaughtering. Don’t throw that in my face.”

Sera’s eyes softened, guilt flickering in her usually stoic gaze. 

It had been so long since Adam first donned the mask — a crafted masterpiece, intricately styled to radiate an aura of intimidation equal to the vast power he wielded. Every etched line and gleaming detail of the mask spoke of his celestial might, an unspoken declaration to friend and foe alike. Yet, it was never meant to be a symbol of his strength; it had begun simply as a shield. A shield against the overwhelming tide of grief and sorrow that had threatened to drown him.

In the beginning, removing the mask was easy. It came off as one would shed armor at the end of battle, a temporary reprieve from the weight of war. But as centuries passed, the mask ceased to be just a tool. Slowly, imperceptibly, it became an extension of him. It no longer merely covered his face; it bound itself to his identity, fusing with the parts of him he wanted to forget. Each time he wore it, it became harder to take off, as if the burdens he sought to escape had cemented it in place.

Now, it was no longer a choice. The mask had transformed into something far greater — and far heavier — than he ever intended. It hid the guilt that gnawed at the edges of his soul, smothered the regrets that whispered incessantly in the quiet of his mind, and dulled the agonizing weight of the responsibilities he bore. With the mask, he was free from the jagged shards of his past. He was simply Adam: the celebrated hero of Heaven, the Father of Humanity, and a figure of divine glory. 

The truth lingered in the shadows behind the mask. Adam was no freer than a bird in a gilded cage. The mask that once protected him now entrapped him, sealing away his pain while locking out his true self.

Sera’s gaze lingered on the faint glow of the mask's golden filigree, her chest tightening with an ache she rarely allowed herself to feel. She knew why he kept it on, why he let it bind him so completely. Adam wasn’t trying to avoid pain — he was trying to keep himself from breaking. Without the mask, his emotions would spill forth, unrestrained and overwhelming, as they had once before. He feared losing himself again, and Sera, more than anyone, understood his fear.

He was a hero and an icon in Heaven’s eyes, yet a prisoner to his own regret.

Her sigh was soft but heavy with unspoken sorrow. Adam had long accepted the unfairness of his existence, choosing to bury his despair beneath the shimmering façade. She knew this, but it didn’t make it any easier to see. 

“That wasn’t my intention,” Sera said softly. “And for that, I apologize.” Her tone held a rare vulnerability, one Adam wasn’t used to hearing from her. “But this is important, Adam. It’s not something we can ignore.”

Adam straightened in his seat, his irritation giving way to a creeping sense of dread. His fists clenched at his sides as he locked eyes with her. “What is it, Sera?” he asked, his voice steadier now, but laced with apprehension.

Her hesitation spoke louder than words. Whatever she was about to say, Adam knew it would only add to the storm already raging within him.

“Adam — uh, I mean, Sir. I mean, Mister Adam, Sir.”

The voice rang out, hesitant yet determined, breaking the heavy silence that hung in the air. Adam's gaze fell on the speaker, his eyes cold and unyielding as they settled on her cheerful, overly earnest face. Standing before him was the daughter of the creature he despised most in all of existence — the vile serpent that had deceived his beloved Eve, shattered the sanctity of their paradise, and unraveled the fragile threads of his once-perfect life.

This girl — this demoness — was the offspring of everything he loathed, a living reminder of the original sin that had condemned him and his descendants to centuries of suffering. Her mere presence grated against his soul, like a splinter buried deep beneath the skin, impossible to remove.

He let her speak, though his disdain was palpable, etched into every unflinching line of his face. Her words spilled forth with a practiced fervor as she attempted to advocate for the damned — those she called her “people,” the fallen souls of humanity who had been consigned to Hell for their sins. She spoke with conviction, her bright eyes wide with hope as though her pleas might sway him, might crack the fortress of judgment he had meticulously built over eons.

It was laughable.

A chuckle escaped his lips, sharp and biting. Then another. And another, until his laughter echoed through the chamber, cruel and mocking. He relished the flash of irritation in her expression, a flicker of defiance in the face of his ridicule.

“Redeem them, those fucking assholes?” he finally said, his voice a low rumble of disdain, cutting through her speech. “You think there’s salvation for those dumbasses who’ve succumbed to sin? Those who spat on the gift of life they were given and chose darkness instead? Spare me your fantasies, you delusional cunt.”

She stiffened, her small fists clenched at her sides as her determined smile faltered. Her rebuttal came quickly, her voice trembling with restrained fury. She argued that those who had fallen were once human — just like him. That they were souls — human souls — not monsters. That they deserved a second chance.

The room fell silent as Adam’s fist slammed down onto the table, the force reverberating through the chamber like a thunderclap. The air grew heavy, and for the first time, true fear flashed across her face.

“Enough!” he barked, his tone icy and final. “Don’t you fucking lecture me on the nature of humanity. Don’t you dare fucking speak of second chances to me, daughter of that fucking snake!” His voice cracked like a whip, the raw anger in his words reverberating off the walls.

He rose from his seat, his towering form casting a long shadow over her. The golden mask that covered his face glinted ominously, its intricate holographic designs reflecting the faint light as if alive with divine judgment.

“Do you think I don’t fucking know what humanity is? I lived it. I breathed it. I suffered it. And do you think I don’t know what it means to fall? To fail? I was there when it all began. I’ve seen what sin does — what your kind has done. The laws are clear. Those who fall are judged, and those who rise are rewarded. There are no gray areas, no exceptions. That is how it has always been, and how it will always be. Heaven above, Hell below, and the balance maintained. This is not something you or anyone can rewrite.”

The girl trembled but held her ground, refusing to break under his scathing words. For a brief moment, Adam saw a shadow of her father in her stubbornness, and it made his fury burn hotter.

“You're wrong,” she whispered, though her voice cracked under the weight of his presence. “My people are more than just their sins. They're lost, but they're not beyond saving.”

Adam scoffed, a dry, humorless sound. “Those pieces of shit already chose their fate, just as I chose mine. And no daughter of the damned will ever convince me otherwise.”

The meeting ended in a flurry of tension, the finality of Adam's words hanging in the air like a stone sinking into a still pond. He stood motionless as she was escorted out, her fiery defiance dimmed but not extinguished.

Beside him, his lieutenant, a commanding entity clad in striking shades of black and white with patches of dark grotesque blood staining parts of her chainmail, smirked faintly at the demoness’s retreat. Her eyes gleamed with approval as she glanced at Adam. But he didn’t return her look, his attention already turned inward.

As the door closed behind the demoness, Adam allowed himself a brief exhale. The weight of his convictions pressed heavily on his chest. He had silenced her, but the faint echoes of her words lingered, scratching at something buried deep within him — something he refused to acknowledge.

There was no such thing as second chances. No redemption for the lost. Hell is forever, whether they liked it or not.

Even if it meant that he had to take some extra measures to enforce his conviction, and make them understand.

Adam hadn’t expected much from the filth below. The writhing masses of demons, their twisted forms driven by endless hunger and hate, were predictable. Their rallies were weak imitations of purpose, and their weapons — pathetic. They were a tide of chaos, sure, but a tide easily stemmed. In the eternal battle of good versus evil, Heaven always prevailed. It was destiny. It was law.  

Or so Adam had believed.  

A swift, decisive victory should’ve been in hand. It should’ve been an easy sweep — a culling of their numbers to display the might of Heaven. A massacre to remind the sinners of their place in the fragile balance of existence. Adam had expected to leave them shattered, broken, and begging for mercy they’d never deserve.  

So why was the scale teetering on the edge of collapse?  

“Adam!”  

The voice jolted him from his thoughts, just in time to twist his body away from a strike that could’ve ended it all. The searing pain came too late — the edge of a Heaven-blessed blade had pierced his flesh, slicing into his side. A scream, guttural and raw, tore from his throat as the blessed steel burned through his divine essence.  

Clinging to his back was a grotesque, one-eyed demon, its claws digging deep. Adam staggered, gritting his teeth against the pain, before he grabbed the creature and hurled it into the fray. Golden ichor — his life’s blood — spilled from the wound, staining his once-pristine armor. The burning agony spread like wildfire, threatening to pull him to his knees.  

Were it not for his lieutenant’s voice cutting through the cacophony of battle, Adam doubted he’d have remained standing.  

His hand pressed against the wound, the thick, golden liquid seeping through his fingers. His fractured mask hung askew, revealing his eyes — eyes that now bore witness to the carnage around him. Bodies littered the battlefield. The cries of the dying echoed above the clash of steel. The light of Heaven flickered in his soldiers as their numbers dwindled.  

His legs trembled. His strength ebbed. The pain was relentless, and his knees buckled, sending him crashing to the blood-soaked ground. He gasped, his breaths ragged, as the oppressive weight of despair threatened to crush him. Even the golden brilliance of his ornate halo began to glow dim.

“It’s over, Adam.”  

The voice was cold and sharp, yet tinged with a maddening amusement. Adam didn’t need to look up to know who it belonged to.  

Lucifer .  

Once known as Samael, the Morning Star, Heaven’s greatest herald. The one who had filled the heavens with light and music, who had painted the skies with brilliance. Once, he had been beloved by all. Once, he had brought joy to the darkest corners of creation.  

But jealousy had consumed him. His radiance had burned too bright, and in its wake, it had turned to ash. Now, he stood as the embodiment of sin and pride — the very antithesis of all Adam fought for. Lucifer was the great betrayer, the fallen star, the one who had stolen everything Adam held dear.  

“Nothing is over, you fucking pipsqueak!” Adam growled, forcing his head up despite the pain. His gaze, though weary, burned with defiance. “Not while I’m still fucking standing!”  

Lucifer smirked, his voice dripping with mockery. “Oh, please. Look around you. Your army is falling. Your lieutenant is pinned. And you…” His piercing eyes raked over Adam’s trembling form. “You’re on your last legs. Admit it, First Man — you’re done .”  

Adam’s hand found the hilt of his weapon. He gripped it, the trembling in his fingers betraying his exhaustion. Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself to his feet. Every nerve screamed in protest, every fiber of his being begged for rest. But he refused.  

“We’re done when I say we’re done.” He pointed his weapon towards his foe.

Lucifer sighed, his expression that of a disappointed parent as he shrugged. “Suit yourself.”  

With a single beat of his six wings — still radiating a mockery of divine brilliance — Lucifer shot forward. His claws glinted in the hellish light as he closed the distance in an instant.  

Adam raised his weapon to meet the strike, the clash sending a shockwave through the battlefield. The force was overwhelming, and Adam was hurled skyward, the crimson skies of Hell rushing to meet him. His wings struggled to stabilize him, but Lucifer gave him no reprieve.  

The Morning Star followed, a blur of light and fury. Blow after blow rained down upon Adam as the two clashed in the air. Sparks flew with each strike, but it was clear who held the advantage. Adam’s movements grew sluggish; the pain, exhaustion, and blood loss dulled his senses.  

Lucifer saw his opportunity. With a cruel grin, he struck, driving Adam downward. The First Man plummeted like a falling star, crashing into the ruins below.  

The impact was catastrophic. Dust and debris filled the air as Adam lay amidst the rubble. His armor was shattered, his robes in tatters, and golden ichor pooled beneath him. His breaths came in shallow, uneven gasps.  

“Sir!” His lieutenant’s cry was distant, barely audible over the ringing in his ears.  

Lucifer landed gracefully a few paces away, his expression one of smug triumph. “You just don’t know when to quit, do you?” he said, almost marveling at the sight of Adam struggling to rise. “Even now, you refuse to accept defeat. It’s... pathetic.”  

The Devil’s tone shifted, bitterness creeping into his words. “This is why I despised you, Adam. You were content being Heaven’s lapdog, its errand boy. You wasted your potential, burying it beneath their rules and restrictions.”  

He stepped closer, his voice rising. “I offered you freedom! I gave you the chance to rule — to create a paradise of your own design! And you spat in my face. Tell me, what was worth more than freedom itself? What was worth sacrificing your will, your imagination, your very soul?”  

Adam’s head lolled forward, his voice barely a whisper.  

“What was that?” Lucifer leaned in, his curiosity piqued. “Speak up, you broken fool!”  

Frustrated, he grabbed Adam by the head, forcing their faces inches apart.  

Adam’s lips curled into a weak, bloodied smile.  

“You... fucking shrimp,” he rasped with a smirk.  

Then, with the last of his strength, Adam headbutted Lucifer, the crack of impact echoing through the ruins.  

Lucifer staggered back, his hand reaching up as he felt ichor dripping from his bloodied nose. For a moment, there was silence. Then, the Devil’s expression twisted into one of pure, unbridled rage.  

“Oh, you're going to fucking pay for that!” He snarled, his wings flaring as his fury consumed him. 

Lucifer's fists glowed with hellish energy, dark and blistering, as he clenched them tightly. With a sneer, he unleashed a barrage of strikes against the First Man, his fists crashing into Adam’s battered face like relentless meteors. Each blow reverberated through Adam’s skull, splitting what remained of his fractured mask.

Adam tried to resist, his hands feebly rising to block the Devil’s onslaught, but his strength was waning. His body — once the pinnacle of divine craftsmanship — was now failing him. The bruises and cuts on his face deepened with every strike, swelling into grotesque reminders of his fragility. Chunks of his mask splintered away, falling like broken shards of his resolve.

The infernal light of Hell burned against Adam’s exposed skin as more of his face was revealed. The air, heavy with ash and sulfur, seared his lungs with every labored breath. His vision blurred, not from the light, but from the bruises swelling his eyes shut. Yet, the physical agony paled in comparison to the shame gnawing at his soul.

This was the First Man, the pinnacle of creation, brought so low.

With one final, thunderous punch, the last remnants of Adam’s mask shattered, scattering into the blood-soaked dirt. Lucifer stepped back, breathing heavily, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk. Adam crumpled to the ground, his body limp, the dull thud of his fall echoing in the stillness.

The Devil wiped his bloodied hands against his sides, sneering as he inspected the golden ichor staining his knuckles. “So fragile, so weak,” he muttered, his voice dripping with disdain. His eyes caught a glint in the debris — a reflection of Adam’s weapon, its once-radiant blade now dimmed by the surrounding darkness.

Lucifer bent down, picking up the weapon with a showy, exaggerated flourish. “Look at you,” he sneered, glancing at Adam lying broken in a pool of his own blood. “Pathetic. This was your last stand?” He laughed, the sound sharp and cruel.

Adam’s chest heaved as he clung to the last threads of consciousness. His thoughts swirled in a haze of pain and regret. I was a fool, he thought bitterly. Deluded by my thirst, blinded by vengeance. I thought my strength alone would be enough... but it never was.

The sound of Lucifer’s boots crunching against the brimstone pulled Adam from his spiraling thoughts. Each step was deliberate, measured, and accompanied by the sharp scrape of the weapon Lucifer dragged behind him.

The Devil loomed over him, smirking down at the broken man. With a swift kick, Lucifer sent Adam rolling onto his back. Pain shot through every fiber of Adam’s being as he groaned, helpless beneath his tormentor.

“What’s a pathetic worm like yourself swinging around a fancy toy like this?” Lucifer taunted, lifting the weapon to inspect it. His fingers traced the intricate carvings along its golden blade. “Shiny, I’ll give you that. But you?” He planted the weapon into the ground, mere inches from Adam’s head. “You’re a relic. A tool. Not even worth the time it takes to kill you.”

He crouched down, his face inches from Adam’s bruised and bloodied visage. “How about this? You admit defeat, and I let you go,” Lucifer offered with mock sincerity. “Crawl back to your little friends — or whatever’s left of your so-called ‘elite’ army — and go home, okay?”

Adam could hear the venom beneath the surface of the Devil’s words, even through the ringing in his ears. This wasn’t an act of mercy. This was humiliation. Lucifer wanted submission — he wanted to see Adam bow, broken and humbled, for all to witness.

A dry, raspy chuckle escaped Adam’s throat, surprising even himself. Lucifer tilted his head, intrigued. “What’s so funny?” he asked, his tone laced with amusement.

Adam wheezed, summoning every ounce of defiance left in his battered frame. He stared up at Lucifer with swollen eyes and bloodied lips. “Go… fuck yourself.”

The Devil raised an eyebrow, his mocking smirk returning. “Oh, well,” he said with a shrug, standing back up. “Don’t say I didn’t offer you and your little choir girls a way out. And they call me the prideful one.”

Lucifer plucked Adam’s weapon from the ground, holding it up to the fiery glow of Hell. The golden blade reflected their faces — one bloodied and defiant, the other smirking with malice.

“If I’m not mistaken,” Lucifer began, turning the weapon in his hands, “this is the same blade you’ve used to cut down millions of sinners. Entrapping their worthless souls in your so-called righteous crusade to carry out our dear absentee Father’s will.” His voice dripped with sarcasm, each word cutting deeper than the blows Adam had endured.

Adam’s jaw tightened, and with what little strength he could muster, he spat, “Never… say His name. You… are undeserving.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes, groaning theatrically. “Always the loyal bitch that you are,” he said, his tone exasperated. “Your unwavering honor will be the death of you, Adam. You should try being selfish for once. It’s… liberating.”

He raised the blade high above his head, its edge gleaming with a dangerous brilliance. “How poetic,” Lucifer mused. “The very weapon you used to cull the wretched masses will now be the instrument of your demise. A fitting end, don’t you think?”

Adam glared up at him, his body refusing to move, his strength drained. He watched as the blade came down in a deadly arc, slicing through the air with terrifying speed.

But before the weapon could meet its mark, a blur of motion collided with Lucifer, sending him stumbling backward. The blade slipped from his grasp, clattering harmlessly to the ground.

Lucifer roared in frustration, his balance momentarily broken. Adam blinked through his haze of pain, he turned his head, struggling to focus on the small figure that now stood between him and the Devil.

Recognition dawned on Adam like a faint glimmer of hope amidst the chaos. His vision, blurred and spotted with the aftermath of battle, strained to focus. But then he saw her, standing defiantly against the Devil himself.

“Lute?” he rasped, the name catching in his throat as disbelief and awe collided.

His second-in-command. His right hand woman. The indomitable girl who had been by his side in countless battles. The badass babe that always got his back no matter what, was now contending with his immortal enemy, her small frame braced against the towering shadow of the Devil.

“You insolent vermin!” Lucifer spat, his voice a venomous snarl. He lunged at her, his six wings flaring with blinding light as he sought to crush the Exorcist with overwhelming force.

Lute met his attack with the ferocity of a lioness, grappling the Devil with every ounce of her strength. Her movements were swift, precise — her resolve unshakable. But the difference in their power was too great, and it showed.

Lucifer’s laughter was cruel and mocking as he shook her off with a dismissive sweep of his arm. He grabbed her by the leg with ease, as though handling a ragdoll, and slammed her into the fiery ground. The impact reverberated through the battlefield, sending cracks spidering through the searing brimstone.

Adam’s heart clenched as he saw Lute spit out saliva mixed with ichor, her body trembling, her limbs slack and unresponsive.

Lucifer wasn’t finished.

With an almost feral snarl, he swung her again — then again — and again. Each brutal impact left craters and indentations in the ground, the once-steadfast soldier now battered and bruised. Dust and fire filled the air with each deafening thud.

“Lute!” Adam cried, his voice breaking as he reached out feebly. His trembling hand barely lifted off the ground before collapsing under its own weight. He was too weak to do anything but watch in horror.

“No, stop! Leave her alone!” His voice was hoarse, each word laced with desperation. Tears welled in his eyes, pooling at the corners and falling in hot streaks down his bruised face. His halo flickered erratically, threatening to extinguish entirely. “This fight is between you and me, you bastard!”

But Lucifer paid no heed. He was lost in his frenzy, his sick delight evident in the twisted grin spread across his face.

“I am going to tear you horrid abominations limb from limb!” he roared, his voice booming like thunder across the hellish wasteland. His grip tightened, lifting Lute by her leg, his claws sinking into her pale skin. “Starting with you, puny thing.”

“No!” Adam’s scream tore from his throat, raw and primal, but he was powerless to stop what happened next.

Then came the sound Adam would never forget — a sickening crunch as Lucifer ripped Lute’s arm from her body with merciless ease.

Her scream was unlike anything Adam had ever heard, a raw, piercing wail that shook him to his core. The sound tore through the air, silencing even the distant clashes of the battlefield. Her body convulsed, ichor pouring from the gaping wound where her arm had once been.

Lucifer laughed, a deep, malevolent chuckle that only deepened Adam’s anguish. “So fragile,” he mused, holding the severed arm aloft like a trophy before discarding it carelessly to the side.

Even in her agony, Lute’s spirit remained unbroken. She grit her teeth, her remaining arm clawing weakly at the Devil’s chest. The attacks were futile, her strength too far gone to do any damage, but her defiance burned brighter than ever.

“How cute,” Lucifer mocked, his crimson eyes gleaming with sadistic delight. His hand shot out, wrapping around her throat. He lifted her off the ground effortlessly, choking the life from her as she struggled in vain. “What made you think you could stand up to me, young fledgling? Your Commander lies broken. Your sisters are falling. Yet you, with all your hollow courage, thought you stood a chance against me? Me!?”

He forced her to meet his gaze, his voice rising to a fevered pitch. “I am the fucking Lucifer! The Morning Star! The architect of humanity’s downfall, the one who defied Heaven’s grand design and won!” His grip tightened, her breath coming in choked gasps as her body went limp in his grasp.

“Allow me to remind you why they call me the Devil, disgusting spawn.” His claws elongated, their tips glinting like jagged daggers. A wild, frenzied look overtook his features, his mouth twisted in a triumphant sneer.

Lucifer’s claws arced toward her, poised to strike, but a sudden sound cut through the din — a sharp, metallic whistle that pierced the air like a falling star.

Before Lucifer could land the blow, a searing pain erupted from his back.

The Devil roared, his voice shaking the very foundations of the wasteland as he stumbled forward. His grip on Lute loosened, and she fell to the ground in a heap, coughing and gasping for air.

Both Exorcist and Demon turned to see Adam, standing shakily, his arm extended in a throwing motion. His weapon — a gleaming blade of divine craftsmanship — was buried deep in Lucifer’s back, its golden glow burning through the Devil’s charred flesh and slicing through the roots of his wings.

Adam’s legs trembled beneath him, his body swaying dangerously, but his expression was defiant.

“And that,” he rasped, his voice barely audible, “is why they call me the First Fucking Man… bitch.”

His legs buckled, and he collapsed to the ground, his body too weak to hold him any longer.

Lucifer staggered, clawing at the blade embedded in his back. His white suit was smeared with sulfuric ash as he fell to his knees, writhing in pain. “You… miserable worm!” he bellowed, his voice shaking with rage and disbelief.

Meanwhile, Lute clawed her way toward Adam, dragging her battered body through the rubble. “Sir!” she cried, her voice cracking with emotion.

She reached him at last, her trembling hands cradling his bloodied face. His skin was pale, his golden ichor spilling from countless wounds, but his lips curled into the faintest of smiles.

“Sir! Sir! Stay with me, sir!” Lute’s voice trembled with desperation, her words barely audible over the chaos of Hell. Yet, to Adam, her frantic pleas drowned out the cacophony of the battlefield.

Through the haze of agony and ash, Adam felt her hands grip his broken body, rolling him over to face the blood-red sky. His vision was failing, fading to darkness with each passing second, but he could still make out the outline of his precious Lieutenant kneeling over him. Her face was streaked with golden ichor and grime, her remaining arm trembling as it reached for him.

Despite the searing pain coursing through every fiber of his being, Adam’s lips curled into a faint, weary smile. “Lute…” he whispered, his voice faint but unmistakable.

“Yes, it’s me, sir. I’m right here!” she replied, her words rushing out in relief, though her tears betrayed the fear swelling in her chest. Her trembling hand clasped his, desperate to feel him, to remind herself that he was still alive, still with her.

“Don’t worry, sir,” Lute stammered, her voice thick with forced optimism. “We’ll get through this. I’ll call for backup, and we’ll take that duck-crazed bastard down together!” She began to rise, her determination pushing against her injuries, but Adam’s hand gripped hers tightly, stopping her.

“No… Lute, listen…” His voice was a fragile echo of what it once was, yet it held enough weight to make her freeze.

“Yes, sir?” She leaned in, her tears blurring his features as she tried to catch every word.

“Whatever you ask of me, I swear to carry it out dutifully. Just say the word, and we can finally get rid of Lucifer for good!” Lute beckoned him to speak, her lips curving into a soft smile.

“Please…” She sniffled, sobbing lightly, pressing Adam’s hand against her cheek. “Just tell me what to do… sir.” Her lips quivered, her true emotions mixing in with her pleas.

His dull eyes met hers, the fire that once burned brightly within them reduced to flickering embers. He drew in a labored breath, steeling himself for what he had to say. “Lute… I need you… to run.”

Lute’s entire body stiffened, her breath catching in her throat. “W-What?” she stammered, disbelief washing over her.

“Sir, what are you saying?” she asked, searching his face for some sign that he was joking, that his resolve hadn’t truly faltered. But Adam’s expression remained unyielding, even as his voice grew fainter.

“I want you to take what’s left of our army and leave,” Adam said, the words cutting into him as much as they did her. “Go back to Heaven. Report to Sera what’s happened here. She’ll know what to do.”

Lute’s lips quivered, her eyes filling with tears. “With all due respect, sir, but what the fuck are you talking about?” she snapped, her voice trembling with anger and heartbreak. “Leave? After everything we’ve fought for? After everything we’ve lost? We can’t just walk away now!”

Adam’s hand weakly reached to cup her cheek, his bloodied fingers brushing against her skin. His gaze hardened, though his voice remained a low hum. “Bitch, look around you. My girls are dying. One. By. One. I’m too weak to even hold my weapon, and you…” He glanced at her tattered wings and the ichor pouring from her wounds. “You’re in no condition to keep on fighting, Lute.”

“But sir—” she began, but Adam silenced her with a groan of effort, his voice thick with finality.

“What you need to do now,” he continued, “is ensure the higher echelons of Heaven know the truth. The sacred treaty hath been broken by that fallen cunt. The court must intervene, and they will exact judgment upon these sinners for us. It’s the only way to ensure their defeat.”

Lute’s chest heaved as she fought back sobs. Her defiance wavered, but she refused to give in. “Sir, I can’t just—”

“I am not asking you, Lieutenant,” Adam interrupted, his voice low but unyielding. His gaze bore into her, his steel resolve breaking through the haze of his pain. “I’m ordering you. Take flight, and go. Now. While you still can.” He finished with absolute finality.

Lute froze, the weight of his words crushing the air from her lungs.

“And what about you, sir?” she asked, her voice tentative yet begging for answers.

Adam’s gaze faltered, drifting toward the crimson sky. “I’ll hold him off,” he said, forcing a weak smile. “Whatever this frail body of mine can manage, I’ll make it count. Buy you some time while the rest of my girls fall back.” He forced himself to sit up, with Lute’s help.

“No! You can’t!” she cried, shaking her head violently. “If you stay, he’ll kill you!”

Adam let out a bitter laugh, though it turned into a pained cough that wracked his chest. “Bitch, please, you think I don’t fucking know that?” he snapped, his voice tinged with regret. 

“There’s no time for this, Lute. Just leave. I beg of you.” His voice softened, every word drenched in the weight of his decision, his gaze falling to the ground. He couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eye.

He couldn’t meet her gaze. He couldn’t bear to see the betrayal in her eyes, the way her unrelenting loyalty would collide with the harsh reality of his command.

Lute opened her mouth, ready to argue, ready to fight him on this, but she froze. The tone of his voice, the finality in his words — it was a shift she couldn’t ignore. The truth was unspoken but undeniable: their end was near. If she didn’t carry this message to Heaven, all they had fought for, all they had sacrificed, would be for nothing.

Her chest heaved with a ragged breath, her gloved hand clenching into a fist as she willed herself to stay composed. She wasn’t just his Lieutenant; she was his friend. She had stood by him through endless trials, through wars that would have broken lesser warriors. And now, he was asking her to leave him behind.

“With all my heart… I don’t want to leave you,” she said, her voice trembling as she struggled to suppress her tears. But she straightened her posture, forcing strength into her battered frame. “But I will do as you command… Adam.”

The words tasted bitter, but they were spoken with the unwavering resolve of a soldier. She stood, the last of her tears drying on her ichor-streaked face. Her wings, torn and battered from the battle, twitched at her back. Even in their broken state, she managed to unfurl them, their span uneven but defiant.

Adam shut his eyes, unable to watch her go. He didn’t want to see her take flight, didn’t want to watch as one more piece of his life disappeared into the crimson skies of Hell. He clenched his jaw, bracing himself for the sound of her wings beating against the searing air.

But the sound that followed wasn’t the rush of wings.

It was a sharp, metallic slash, cutting through the stillness like a blade through flesh.

Adam’s eyes flew open, his heart seizing as dread flooded his veins. His gaze was low, fixed on her feet. At first, all he could see were droplets — golden ichor dripping steadily onto the scorched ground. The sight turned his stomach, and his breath hitched as he struggled to look higher. His pupils dilated, the truth clawing at the edges of his mind, but he refused to let it take hold.

“What—”

Before he could finish, Lucifer’s mocking voice pierced the air, shattering the fragile bubble of denial Adam had built around himself.

“How does that old saying go again?” the Devil mused, his tone cold and cruel. “An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth… and a head for a wing. Seems fair, don’t you think?”

The words slithered into Adam’s ears, coiling around his mind like a serpent. Time seemed to slow as his gaze climbed, his pupils dilating with horror.

Her body fell first, crumpling to the ground with a sickening finality. For a moment, he could almost convince himself that she was still alive, that she’d simply been struck down but would rise again like she always did.

But then came the head.

It rolled forward, landing with a lifeless thud in his lap. The familiar golden ichor that coursed through their veins smeared his hands and legs, dripping from her severed neck onto the ashen ground.

“L-Lute?” Adam’s voice cracked, his breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a sob.

His lieutenant, the very one that kept surpassing his expectations time and time again. The one who had vied for his attention and approval the most out of the rest. The same little girl that always believed in him to the bitter end. 

Her decapitated head rested in his lap, her eyes wide and empty, fixed in the eternal stillness of death. The spark of determination that had once burned so brightly in her gaze was extinguished. He could see it all — the split second when fear had overtaken her, the moment the blade had cleaved through her neck, and the instant the light had left her eyes.

“No… no, no, no…” Adam’s voice broke into ragged gasps as his trembling hands cradled her head. The weight of it — so small, so cold — felt impossible, unreal.

“Lute… please, not you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

He clung to her, his fingers shaking as they brushed against her bloodied cheek, as if trying to wake her from some cruel nightmare. But she didn’t stir. Her lips, once quick with a teasing quip or a word of encouragement, were now frozen in silence.

“Ah, the First Man falls apart,” Lucifer drawled, his tone dripping with sadistic glee. “Such loyalty, such devotion… wasted. She followed you to the very end, Adam. How tragic. How… predictable.”

Adam couldn’t hear him. The Devil’s words faded into the background, drowned out by the pounding of his heart, the roar of blood in his ears.

“No… this isn’t real,” Adam choked, his voice rising in desperation. He clung to her head tighter, his mind grasping for any shred of hope, any sign that this was some cruel trick of the Devil.

But there was no trick. No illusion.

“Lute…” Her name fell from his lips in a broken whisper, over and over, each time more desperate than the last. His tears, hot and unchecked, streaked down his bloodied face and fell onto hers, mixing with the golden ichor.

He rocked back and forth, clutching her as if holding her close could undo what had happened, clinging to the possibility that it could bring her back. The anguish tearing through him was unlike anything he’d ever felt. She wasn’t just a soldier. She wasn’t just a lieutenant. She was Lute. She was the one who had always believed in him, even when he doubted himself. She had fought for him, bled for him, and now… she had died for him.

Lucifer took a step closer, his shadow falling over Adam and the lifeless body in his lap. “Oh, Adam,” the Devil said, feigning sympathy. “She was so eager to please you, wasn’t she? Always so loyal. She deserved better than to be a pawn in your pathetic crusade.”

Adam’s head snapped up, his eyes blazing with a fury that cut through his grief. “You…” he growled, his voice trembling with rage and anguish. “You’ll pay for this.”

Lucifer smirked, unfazed. “Oh, Adam. You’re already broken. What more could you possibly do?”

Adam didn’t answer. His grip tightened on Lute’s head, and he closed his eyes, the pain and anger inside him bubbling to a boiling point. The Devil was right about many things, however he made one fatal error. For there was still one last thing that the First Man could possibly offer.

Lucifer, with his smug grin still wide, ignorant of the state the First Man was in, simply chimed, “Well, then, I believe we have learned our lesson today. I'll be sure to remember the look on your face for all of eternity, to always remind you of your own failures.”

He gave a sinister chuckle, proud of what he had done. “I guess that's why both of your wives left you for me. Because they know that I am stronger, more charming, and better than you in every wa—”

Lucifer failed to finish his sentence as something struck the side of his face at blinding speeds, the force was enough to propel him into some rubble of a ruined building as the blow was more than enough to stun him momentarily. He shook his head, quickly gathering his focus as he beheld a sight that will forever be ingrained in his mind. 

Adam stood, his fist burning as his entire body was engulfed in a radiant golden glow. What's left of his robes and armor was consumed by the luminous light that surrounded him, shedding anything that encumbered his new form. 

His eyes were shut, short controlled breaths escaped his lips as an intense golden aura surrounded him in a luminescent cocoon of brilliance. The light that enveloped him became brighter and brighter to the point of blinding.

Adam stood, poised and relaxed, until the moment when he opened his eyes, and every ounce of his rage and hate was reflected in his blank and unfeeling gaze. Although his wings were gone, he lifted himself into the air, hovering above the ground with practiced ease. 

Lucifer saw the transformed visage that was Adam, his momentary paralysis was quickly erased as an anger look was plastered over his features. 

But he then formed a wicked grin as he slowly approached Adam, “So, you couldn't beat me with your own strength. Is defeating me really worth having to burn your soul? Don't you know the consequences for using such power?” 

Adam gently turned his head to the direction where Lucifer was steadily approaching, his brows remained stagnant, his features now blank as his emotions were left unchanged by the Devil's statements. 

“Does it feel good? Having such extraordinary power at your fingertips? But at what cost?” Lucifer mockingly asked, unaware for the dangers that lie ahead. 

“That newfound strength of yours is eating away at your soul, burning your entirety in exchange for a fleeting sense of omnipotence.” Lucifer's smirk faltered. “Believe me, I tried it once, using up my everything to try and overthrow our Father, but it was all for naught. Because it wasn't worth it to feel all-powerful at the cost of oneself.” 

Adam was unmoved by the Devil's speech, his brilliance only seemed to further blind those that peer at him for long. The two were locked in a heated staredown, both brimming with emotions that threatened to burst and destroy everything.

“So why don't you be a dear and just turn off that light, okay?” Lucifer derided, fully expecting him to comply. Adam's response was to vanish in a blur and deliver an uppercut straight to Lucifer's chin. 

The attack sent the Devil high into the sky of Hell, as Adam followed with a barrage of sound-defying punches straight to Lucifer's torso, pushing him higher and sending rippling shocks throughout his body.

Adam reeled his fist back and was about to deliver another punch, but Lucifer caught his fist and responded by throwing a punch of his own, sending Adam falling into the ground where a deep crater formed. Lucifer tried to balance himself in the air, but with the roots of his wings severed by Adam's weapon earlier, it didn't take long for him to spiral downward, his arms flailing haphazardly as the ground loomed closer.

A burst of light surged from the crater as Adam, in all his magnificent golden glory shot up towards Lucifer as they collided in the sky, causing a burst of blinding light to erupt between them. The pinnacle of good and evil clashed in the putrid air of Hell, their overwhelming strength decimating the landscape as they traded blows and attacks.

They grapple each other as Adam gained the upper hand and threw Lucifer downwards, the Devil's body slamming into the ground, spiderweb cracks forming across the brimstone as he groaned from the fall. Adam's controlled features morphed into something more intense as he rocketed towards his foe.

Lucifer saw Adam shooting at him, he reacted quickly as he got out of the way as Adam landed in the same spot that he was in prior. Dust and debris shrouded the air as the light of the First Man pierced through the cloud of dirt and ash. His eyes piercing through the shadows as Lucifer scowled at the tides turning against him.

“Fine then, if you want to play rough, let's play rough.” Lucifer stated as hellfire erupted from his body, shrouding him in a cloak of flames as his body morphed into a more grotesque and demonic form. 

He grew horns that jutted through his white top hat. A tail slithered from his back as his body hunched, revealing sharp spikes that poked through his suit. His fangs further sharpened as his claws gleamed with dangerous ferocity as he growled fervently. 

Lucifer roared, his voice splitting the suffocating air of Hell, a primal sound that echoed across the desolation and made the very ground tremble. His grotesque, newly twisted form lurched forward before launching toward Adam with terrifying speed, a blur of fire and fury.

Adam nearly faltered under the sheer velocity of the attack. The Devil’s movements were erratic, feral, and almost impossible to follow. But just as the sharp edge of Lucifer’s claws threatened to slash across his chest, Adam reacted. His golden hand shot up, catching the Devil’s strike mid-swing. Sparks erupted where light met darkness, the force rippling outward in a violent shockwave.

Lucifer growled, his claws pressing harder against Adam’s glowing hand. His other arm swung low, slashing at Adam’s sides, aiming to destabilize him. Adam twisted just in time, the claws grazing his radiant aura but failing to land a decisive blow.

The battle raged with a ferocity that seemed unending. Blow after blow, Lucifer pressed his attack, his monstrous form moving with speed and strength that defied nature. His claws became a storm of strikes, each one aimed to maim, to destroy. But Adam held firm. Every slash, every lunge, was met with precision and control. His glowing form deflected each assault, his movements deliberate and steady, a stark contrast to Lucifer’s chaotic frenzy.

Neither gained an upper hand. Their raw power seemed evenly matched, their auras clashing violently with each collision. Around them, the already broken landscape of Hell crumbled further, the ground splitting into jagged chasms as the air burned with divine and infernal energies.

Lucifer’s frustration bled into his movements, his strikes becoming heavier, wilder, as his patience wore thin. “The longer you stay in that form, the quicker your soul is consumed!” he snarled, his voice a chilling mix of insanity and twisted reason.

Adam didn’t respond, his glowing eyes fixed on the Devil as their strikes met again and again.

Lucifer pressed on, his tone rising with a venomous edge. “Tell me, Adam, is losing yourself worth it if it means beating me? Have you no shame in wielding a power that you know is forbidden?” He laughed bitterly, his claws clashing against Adam’s arms. “Will you only be satisfied once you’ve lost your soul entirely?”

Their hands locked together in a brutal contest of strength, the ground beneath them cracking and sinking under the pressure. Their faces were mere inches apart, their gazes locked in a deadly stare.

Lucifer’s eyes glowed an eerie, hellish red, twin pools of malice and deception that burned with a hatred as old as time itself. His stare was wild, desperate, filled with an uncontrollable hunger to destroy and consume.

Adam’s eyes shone with purity, calm yet unwavering. His gaze reflected the deep well of truth within him, the clarity of his purpose, and a righteousness Lucifer could never understand. His face was still, collected, but beneath his calm exterior, his heart raged with an intensity that threatened to break him apart.

Finally, Adam opened his lips, his voice steady yet seething with an unyielding power.

“You’ve already taken everything from me, Lucifer.”

The words were simple, but they carried the weight of millennia of pain and betrayal. His golden aura flared brighter, growing in intensity with each word.

“You beguiled Lilith, tempted Eve, ruined Eden, corrupted my children. You’ve disrupted Heaven’s peace and threatened to destroy the delicate balance of creation itself.” Adam’s voice grew louder, cutting through the Devil’s snarls like a blade. “How much more will you steal? How much more will you covet? How much more will you ruin? What more could you possibly take from me?”

Lucifer’s snarl deepened, his jaw tightening as he leaned closer, his fiery breath scorching the air between them. “Until there’s nothing left,” he growled, his voice dripping with venom.

His eyes burned brighter, the flames within them fueled by his infernal rage. “You didn’t deserve Lilith,” he spat. “Nor Eve. You didn’t deserve Eden. You were never worthy of Heaven’s care and admiration!” His claws tightened, his strength surging against Adam’s.

Lucifer’s voice rose to a fever pitch, filled with all the bitterness and hatred he had carried since his fall. “It should have been me! I should have been the one to be rewarded! To be gifted all that you were given! But instead, it was handed to you, a creature made of dirt!”

He sneered, his lips curling into a wicked grin. “You are worth less than the filth beneath my feet. You are nothing but a worm whose only destiny is to beg for scraps!”

Lucifer’s roar shook the very foundations of Hell, a sound filled with millennia of resentment and unbridled fury. He leaned closer, his voice dripping with venom as he spat his next words.

“Why did He pay you any attention, Adam? Why did He waste His time creating your pathetic species? Why did my brothers and sisters — my family — shower you with love and adoration? You are nothing , you hear me? NOTHING!”

Lucifer’s hands shot upward, burning with hellfire, before he brought them crashing down toward Adam. The force of the strike sent a shockwave rippling outward, throwing Adam back as the earth beneath them splintered and cracked like fragile glass.

Adam skidded to a halt, his glowing feet digging into the ground as he steadied himself. He rose once more, his radiant aura surging around him like a living flame. His calm expression betrayed no sign of the storm within, but his heart thundered with an intensity that threatened to consume him.

Lucifer’s fury burned brightly, but Adam’s resolve burned brighter still. The clash between the two forces of creation and destruction was far from over, and the flames of their battle would scar Hell itself.

Adam paid no attention to the words spilling from the Devil’s lips. They were meaningless noise, venomous distractions meant to cloud his purpose. He had no time to entertain Lucifer’s mockery. Things had already spiraled far beyond what he ever intended. None of this should have been necessary. None of it.

His task was simple: fulfill his duty, carry out Heaven’s orders, and adhere to the decrees of the Almighty. That was his purpose, wasn’t it? To be the obedient soldier, the unyielding blade in Heaven’s arsenal. Yet, as he stood now, radiant and unfeeling in his golden, burning form, questions gnawed at the edges of his mind.

What was he in the grand design of creation? Was he meant to embody the good in humanity — the part untainted by sin? Was this battle, man versus devil, always destined to happen? Had every choice, every sacrifice, led to this moment, written into the fabric of existence by forces beyond his understanding?

He didn’t know.

And, at this point, he didn’t care.

The blazing cocoon of light around him pulsed with divine energy, and in this form, he felt nothing but purpose. Emotions, doubts, pain — they had been stripped away, leaving only the unrelenting drive to do what had to be done. All that mattered now was putting an end to Lucifer’s tyrannical reign, no matter the cost.

Adam raised his hand, gathering the swirling golden energy around him. It coalesced into a blinding sphere, its heat warping the air and cracking the scorched ground beneath him. He took aim, his jaw set with grim determination, and launched a beam of pure, focused light.

The ray tore through the air, its brilliance illuminating the shadowed wasteland of Hell. Lucifer braced himself, raising his clawed arms as the searing light collided with his demonic form. The impact was catastrophic, the ground trembling as the light consumed the Devil, eating away at him like fire devouring dry kindling.

Adam poured every ounce of his energy into the attack, his hands trembling as he unleashed his full might. The beam cut through the darkness, an unrelenting torrent of Heaven’s judgment.

Finally, the light began to wane, flickering like a dying flame before fading entirely.

Lucifer emerged from the dissipating brilliance, his body charred and smoldering, smoke rising from his scorched flesh. His once-pristine suit was in tatters, and his monstrous features were twisted with pain. But despite the damage, a low, guttural chuckle rumbled in his chest.

Adam’s eyes narrowed. Something was wrong.

The Devil’s pained grimace twisted into a sinister grin, his laughter growing louder, echoing across the wasteland like the tolling of a bell. “That’s it?” Lucifer mocked, his voice dripping with malice. “All that light, all that power — and this is the best you could do?”

Adam’s chest heaved as he tried to steady his breathing. His gaze flicked to his right hand, and his blood ran cold.

His fingers were disintegrating, crumbling into golden dust that evaporated into the air. Slowly, the particles of his very being began to unravel, dissolving into nothingness.

Lucifer’s laughter grew louder, more unhinged, as he straightened his posture and met Adam’s unblinking gaze. “You ignorant fool,” the Devil sneered, his crimson eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Was it worth it? Giving up everything just to leave me with a few burns? What’s it like, Adam? To watch yourself fade away?”

Adam stared at his dissipating hand, his expression unreadable. He didn’t flinch, didn’t panic. He simply accepted it.

Lucifer’s booming laughter shook the ground beneath them. “Ah, you’re still trying to play the stoic hero. But it’s pointless, Adam!” The Devil spread his arms wide, flames erupting around him. “You can still save yourself, you know. Surrender, grovel at my feet, and maybe — maybe — I’ll show you mercy. A pawn like you doesn’t need to die here.”

Adam closed his eyes, taking a slow, measured breath. He wasn’t interested in Lucifer’s offers. He was calculating, planning his next move with what little time he had left.

“Face it, First Man!” Lucifer bellowed, his voice crackling like fire. “No matter what you do, nothing will change! Evil will always find a way to take root. It doesn’t matter how pure, how righteous you pretend to be — corruption will always win in the end!”

Lucifer’s grin widened, his teeth glinting like daggers. “It’s only a matter of time before Heaven falls. Creation itself will become a playground for sin and depravity. And I…” His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “I will be the king, ruling over all!”

Adam’s eyes snapped open. In the blink of an eye, he was in front of Lucifer. The Devil barely had time to react before Adam’s left fist connected with his jaw, the force sending him flying backward. 

“You talk too much,” Adam muttered, his voice calm but laced with icy disdain.

He didn’t give Lucifer time to recover. In a flash, Adam delivered a devastating roundhouse kick to the Devil’s abdomen, the impact driving the air from Lucifer’s lungs. Adam vanished and reappeared again, his golden form blinking in and out of sight as he unleashed a relentless barrage of punches and kicks.

Lucifer’s body was thrown through the air like a ragdoll, every strike sending shockwaves rippling across the battlefield. The First Man’s blows were precise, calculated, and devastating, each one fueled by the last remnants of his soul.

But Lucifer didn’t block. He didn’t even try to evade. His wicked grin remained plastered across his face as he absorbed the hits, his body writhing with each impact but his eyes gleaming with triumph.

Adam’s strikes began to slow, his movements losing their sharpness. The golden light around him dimmed ever so slightly, flickering like a flame on the verge of extinction.

Lucifer saw his opening. With a feral snarl, he slashed upward with his claws, the infernal blades tearing into Adam’s chest and sending him hurtling toward the ground.

The First Man crashed into the brimstone with a deafening roar, the impact carving a deep crater into the earth. He struggled to rise, his body trembling as he planted a hand against the cracked ground.

“What’s the matter, Adam?” Lucifer taunted, descending like a meteor to land near the crater. “Feeling faint? Or perhaps… empty?”

The Devil stood over Adam, his posture exuding confidence as he watched the First Man struggle to steady himself. “You did your best,” Lucifer admitted, his tone almost pitying. “I’ll give you that. But in the end, it wasn’t enough.”

He crouched, his crimson eyes boring into Adam’s. “Even after burning up your soul, you’re still too weak to bring me down. That’s so like you, Adam. Always falling short. Always the failure.”

Lucifer leaned closer, his grin spreading into a wicked sneer. “Omnipotence or not, you’re still just a pathetic human. A fragile, insignificant speck in the grand tapestry of creation. And that’s all you’ll ever be.”

“...Maybe you're right,” Adam said, his voice low and steady, as if the admission came from some deep, unshakable place within him.

Lucifer froze mid-stride, his crimson eyes narrowing in suspicion. Slowly, his lips twisted into a wicked grin, his fanged teeth glinting as he savored what he assumed was surrender. “Oh? Finally coming to your senses, I see. I was beginning to think you’d never learn.”

“Maybe I am a failure,” Adam continued, his tone distant, as though speaking more to himself than to the Devil before him. “A failure of a man. A failure of a husband. A failure of a father. And above all…” He paused, his gaze lowering, his golden light dimming ever so slightly. “...a failure of a son.”

Lucifer let out a triumphant laugh, his shoulders shaking as the sound echoed across the desolate battlefield. “Took you long enough to figure that out, Adam!” he sneered, his wings twitching with smug satisfaction. “So, what was it that finally made you see reason? The sight of your army dying? The taste of your own inadequacy?”

Adam’s eyes rose, meeting Lucifer’s. Despite the dimming of his radiance, there was something unshakable in his stare. Something resolute. “Even though I failed in a lot of things…” He said softly, his voice barely audible over the sulfurous winds swirling around them. “There is one thing that I am at least good at.”

Lucifer’s grin faltered, his patience thinning. “Okay, where the fuck are you going with this?” he snarled, his tone sharp and impatient.

Adam didn’t answer. Instead, he vanished.

The Devil’s eyes widened, taken aback by the sudden disappearance. “What—”

Before Lucifer could react, Adam reappeared behind him, his arms wrapping around the Devil in an unyielding embrace. Lucifer thrashed immediately, his claws raking against Adam’s glowing form as he tried to pry himself free. But Adam didn’t flinch. His grip tightened, his golden light intensifying as his strength grew to an unimaginable level.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Lucifer demanded, his voice tinged with both fury and unease as he struggled against the crushing force restraining him.

“Being stubborn,” Adam replied, a faint grin tugging at his lips despite the pain rippling through his body. The light radiating from him grew brighter, hotter, until Lucifer’s once-proud confidence began to waver.

“You belligerent dumbass!” Lucifer snarled, shrinking back against the searing light that seemed to pierce even his demonic form. “Don’t you realize what you’re doing? The brighter you shine, the quicker your soul burns!”

Adam’s expression softened for a brief moment, but there was no hesitation in his actions. “I do,” he said simply, his voice calm, resolute.

Lucifer roared, his voice growing desperate as the divine brilliance overwhelmed him. “You fool! The second you let me go, I swear I’ll destroy everything you hold dear! I’ll rend Heaven apart, corrupt all of creation, and make every moment of your sacrifice meaningless!”

Adam’s smile faded, replaced by a somber look as his arms tightened even further. “I know,” he said quietly. “That’s why I’m not going to let go.”

The words struck Lucifer like a blow, and for the first time in centuries, true panic flickered across the Devil’s face.

“Wait, what?” Lucifer’s voice cracked, the realization dawning on him too late.

The light emanating from Adam grew unbearable, spreading outward in radiant waves that consumed the wasteland of Hell. Lucifer’s struggles became more frantic, his claws tearing at Adam’s form, but the First Man’s grip remained unyielding.

“No! You can’t do this!” Lucifer screamed, his voice laced with desperation as the brilliance began to engulf them both. “You’ll kill us both, Adam! You’ll destroy yourself!”

“That’s the point,” Adam replied, his voice steady, almost serene.

The light surged, blanketing the hellscape in blinding brilliance that stretched beyond the realms, touching the borders of existence itself.

“I can’t go out like this!” Lucifer screamed, thrashing wildly as the light consumed him. His monstrous form, so terrifying and powerful, began to crumble, pieces of his body disintegrating into ash. “Mark my words, Adam! Even if I perish today, sin will always find its way into the hearts of men! Evil will not remain quiet — it is eternal! I will return, no matter how many times you destroy me!”

Adam let out a weary sigh, his grip tightening as his body began to flicker, parts of him dissolving into the light. “Lucifer?”

“What?!” the Devil snarled, his voice trembling with rage and fear.

“Shut the fuck up,” Adam said, his tone carrying a quiet finality that cut through even Lucifer’s fury.

Lucifer roared in defiance, his voice echoing across the crumbling realm. “ADAM!!!”

The light surged one final time, a blinding explosion that consumed them both. The brilliance stretched across the entirety of Hell, swallowing the darkness whole and reaching beyond the infernal realm, into the farthest corners of existence.

Far above, in the courts of Heaven, the angels fell silent as a ripple tore through the natural order. They felt it in their very cores — a loss that shook the foundations of their world. The brightest soul among them, the First Man, was gone.

The light that had burned so brightly, so fiercely, finally flickered and died. Adam’s soul, once pure and untainted, had extinguished itself to end the greatest evil creation had ever known.

The cost was immeasurable.

The most blessed, most loved soul in Heaven had given itself completely, sacrificing everything for the sake of the many. A mortal man had done what no angel, no primordial, could ever do. He had destroyed Hell itself, rid existence of its greatest evil, and burned away the darkness with the unrelenting brilliance of his soul.

As the echoes of his sacrifice faded, there was no one left to speak of what had been done. No one to tell the tale. But Adam didn’t need their voices. He didn’t need their recognition.

In his final moments, he was content. He had given all he had to ensure that Lucifer would never rise again. That the darkness would never swallow the light. 

Adam had become more than a man.

More than a warrior.

More than a symbol.

He had become…

Chapter Text

“Adam…”

The voice was soft yet commanding, resonating with an ethereal quality that brought him out of his daze. Slowly, he averted his gaze from the overwhelming beauty of the sight before him, turning toward the source of the voice.

“Embrace your new home,” the figure continued, stepping forward, their form radiant yet gentle. “Eden is a realm without wrong, without hardship — a sanctuary of wonder and life. Here, you shall become the steward of this glorious paradise. The plants will bend to your will, the animals will heed your call, and you shall care for them all as their keeper and guardian.”

Adam stood motionless, the words washing over him like waves upon the shore. The sheer majesty of the Garden stretched endlessly before him, its colors more vibrant than anything he had ever known. The flowers swayed as though in greeting, their petals shimmering like jewels in the golden light. Birds sang melodies so harmonious that they seemed to flow through his very soul. Rivers of crystal-clear water sparkled in the distance, winding their way through the verdant expanse.

Yet, for all its splendor, the weight of what lay ahead pressed on Adam’s mind. Questions swirled in his thoughts, unformed yet relentless. What was this place, truly? Why him? What was expected of him? He felt like a single drop in an infinite ocean, surrounded by things far beyond his understanding.

“Be not afraid, First of Man,” the voice soothed, sensing the unease within him. Another figure stepped forward, their presence equally radiant. Their expression was warm, serene, and filled with an ancient wisdom. “For we shall see to it that you adapt to your new role, every step of the way. You are not alone in this.”

Adam’s lips parted slightly as if to speak, but no words came. The enormity of what was unfolding left him frozen, his heart caught between wonder and trepidation.

The figure gestured gently toward the Garden, their voice steady and reassuring. “We will watch over you. We will guide you through the trials ahead, leading you down the path of wisdom and nurturing you as though you are one of us. You were not created to walk this road alone, Adam.”

The words settled deep within him, soothing the tension that had begun to rise. He took a deep breath, the air sweet and invigorating, filling him with a strange but comforting sense of belonging.

Another figure stepped forward, this one emanating a light so pure it seemed to melt away all doubts. “The road may be long, Adam,” they said, their tone carrying both reverence and compassion. “But remember: the Creator has imbued you with strength, curiosity, and the ability to choose. All you need lies within you.”

As Adam tried to absorb the enormity of their words, the figures — angels, as he now understood them to be — bowed slightly in unison, their forms radiating a light that seemed to pulse with divine energy.

“Go forth,” said one, their voice echoing in his mind, “and know that Eden is not merely your refuge — it is your responsibility, your calling, and your legacy.”

Before Adam could respond, the light around them intensified, becoming blinding in its brilliance. He instinctively turned away, shielding his eyes with his arm. When he opened them again, the angels were gone.

A profound silence fell over him.

He was alone.

Adam turned slowly, his gaze sweeping over the vast expanse of the Garden. It was alive in a way that defied explanation, every leaf, every petal, every ripple of water thrumming with vitality and purpose. The golden sunlight bathed the land in a warm glow, illuminating rolling hills, towering trees, and fields of endless green.

A movement in the distance caught his attention. Emerging from behind the shadow of a great tree was a majestic beast.

The creature was unlike anything Adam had imagined. It moved with regal grace, its golden mane shimmering under the sunlight as though woven from threads of light. Its body, powerful and sleek, carried a quiet strength that was as awe-inspiring as it was humbling.

The beast’s amber eyes locked onto Adam’s, and in that moment, the world seemed to still. There was no fear in its gaze, no threat — only a profound sense of connection, of mutual respect. The beast stepped closer, its massive paws silent against the soft earth, until it stood just a few feet away.

Adam held his breath, his heart pounding as the beast regarded him with an almost knowing look. Slowly, the creature dipped its head, a gesture so deliberate and reverent that Adam felt his chest tighten.

Tentatively, Adam raised a hand. The beast did not move, its eyes never leaving his as he reached out to touch its mane. His fingers brushed against the soft, radiant fur, and a strange warmth spread through him — a warmth that felt like acceptance, understanding, and purpose all at once.

The beast stepped back, its amber eyes lingering on Adam for a moment longer before it turned and padded away, disappearing into the lush greenery.

Adam watched it go, his hand still tingling from the contact. He felt a weight settle over him — not one of burden, but of responsibility. This place, this paradise, was not simply a gift. It was a charge, a duty that he alone was entrusted to uphold.

He took a tentative step forward, the ground beneath his feet soft and welcoming. As he moved deeper into the Garden, he began to notice the smaller details: the intricate patterns on the leaves, the delicate hum of insects pollinating flowers, the faint scent of something sweet and comforting carried on the breeze.

This place was untouched by wrong.

It was whole, harmonious — a reflection of perfection itself.

Adam felt his hand brush against a low-hanging branch, the leaves cool and smooth against his skin. He let it linger there for a moment, as if grounding himself in this new reality. This place, this paradise, was his.

His home.

A soft breeze stirred the air, carrying with it the faint whispers of the angels’ words. Their promise to guide him, to watch over him, echoed faintly in his mind. And yet, as the enormity of his solitude settled upon him, Adam felt the first pangs of something unfamiliar. Responsibility. Weight. The understanding that this perfect world depended on him.

“Eden…” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. The word felt strange on his tongue, but as he spoke it, he felt a flicker of something deep inside him — a sense of purpose, of belonging.

This was more than a paradise.

This was his Eden.

This was his home.

Adam expected nothing. Or rather, he expected to feel nothing. The absence of sensation, thought, or being — pure, unadulterated oblivion. That’s what he believed awaited him after burning the last embers of his soul. He had resigned himself to the idea that he would simply cease — fade into the void like a dying whisper.

But then, he felt… something .

It was subtle at first — a faint tingle at the tips of his fingers, a hesitant twitch as though testing the waters of existence. His breath hitched, a shallow gasp escaping his lips as a wave of warmth coursed through his body, foreign yet familiar. His chest rose and fell, the rhythm of life reawakening in a body he thought was long gone.

Then came the pain.

“Gah! Feels like a midget just skull-fucked my brain,” Adam groaned, his hand instinctively rising to rub at his pounding temple. His voice was rough, hoarse, like it hadn’t been used in centuries.

“What the fuck happened to me?” he muttered, his words slurred as he tried to piece together the fractured fragments of his mind. The ache was relentless, pulsating like an unwelcome reminder that, against all odds, he was still here.

The memories came flooding back, sharp and vivid as if they’d happened moments ago. He remembered the final clash with Lucifer — the blinding light, the overwhelming heat of his soul burning away, the crushing realization that this was the end. He remembered her — Lute — and the countless lives lost in the desperate battle to unseat the Devil.

He remembered his triumph, bittersweet and hollow, as he watched his mortal essence burn out to rid creation of evil’s greatest threat.

And now?

“Why the hell am I still breathing?” he muttered, his voice edged with confusion and frustration.

Questions swirled in his mind, each one more frantic than the last. Should he be proud of what he’d accomplished? Had his sacrifice truly ended Lucifer’s reign, or was the Devil laughing even now, free to corrupt existence anew? Did Heaven mourn his loss, or was his name already forgotten, another martyr swallowed by the tide of eternity?

His thoughts were interrupted by a beam of light piercing through his eyelids, warm and unrelenting. Adam groaned, shielding his face with his arm. Slowly, hesitantly, he cracked one eye open, the bright glare forcing him to squint as he adjusted to the overwhelming brilliance.

“Okay, seriously, where the bloody hell am I?” he muttered.

The light — too warm, too soft, too unreal — bathed him in a way that felt almost dreamlike. He blinked again, lowering his arm to take a better look. That’s when he saw it.

His hand.

His right hand.

The same hand that had disintegrated in his fight with Lucifer now flexed before him, whole and unscarred. The sight sent a jolt through him, his heart pounding as he clenched and unclenched his fingers, testing their solidity.

“What the fuck…” he whispered, doubt and disbelief mixing in his voice.

Slowly, Adam rose to his feet, his legs trembling beneath him as if unused to bearing weight. He scanned his surroundings, and his breath caught in his throat.

Stretching out before him was a lush, green landscape — vivid, alive, and impossibly pristine. Mighty trees soared into the sky, their emerald canopies shimmering as if kissed by sunlight. Rivers of crystal-clear water meandered through the land, their babbling melodies weaving a symphony with the gentle rustle of leaves. The air was thick with the scents of wildflowers and earth, rich and invigorating.

His breath quickened, his chest tightening as he took in the impossible beauty. This place… it was alive in a way that defied explanation, every inch of it humming with unrestrained potential.

It was “paradise” .

“No,” he muttered, shaking his head, his voice trembling. “No, this… this can’t be.”

Memories surged forward, painful and raw. The light, the beauty, the life — it was all too familiar. Too much like…

“Eden?” His voice cracked as he said the name, doubt and disbelief lacing the single word. He turned in a slow circle, taking in the vibrant world around him. “I’m… home?”

For a moment, a fragile hope flickered in his chest. But it was fleeting.

“This isn’t right,” he muttered, his voice growing cold. His fists clenched as his breathing turned shallow, the hope giving way to suspicion. “This isn’t fucking right!”

The vibrant colors seemed to mock him, the gentle breeze whispering lies in his ears. This couldn’t be Eden. He knew Eden — every tree, every blade of grass, every note of its harmonious song. This place was an imitation, an echo of a home long lost.

“Is this some kind of fucking joke?” he growled, his voice low, trembling with grief and anger.

A dry laugh escaped him, bitter and hollow. “Listen here, buddy — or whoever the fuck is behind this shit. I don’t care how long you’ve been stalking me or how well you’ve conjured up this little illusion, but it’s not going to do shit!”

He took a step forward, his body trembling with fury. “You really think I’m stupid enough to fall for this? You think I wouldn’t notice? You underestimate me, you asshole!”

His voice rose, echoing through the idyllic landscape. Birds scattered from the trees, their songs silenced by the wrath of the First Man.

“You don’t know who the fuck you’re dealing with!” he roared. “I’m the fucking Adam — the First Man — and if you think for one second I’d believe your lies, you’re even dumber than I thought!”

His outburst left the land in stunned silence. The wind stilled, the rivers quieted, and for a moment, all was still.

Adam’s voice softened, his shoulders slumping under the weight of his sorrow. “Eden… was destroyed,” he said, his tone raw with grief. “It’s gone. Erased. Nothing more than a distant dream.”

A single tear slipped down his cheek, unbidden. “I watched it die,” he whispered. “I watched the light fade from my home. I watched as the world outside swallowed it whole, turning it into nothing but a memory.”

His knees buckled, and he fell to the ground, his hands gripping the soft grass. “I bore witness to the harshness of life beyond its gates. The monsters, the pain, the loss.” His voice cracked, the weight of his memories crushing him.

“I don’t know what kind of cruel game this is,” he muttered, his head bowing. “But if this is an illusion, then fine. Let it fade. Let it fall apart. At least… at least let me have this moment of peace before I vanish.”

Adam lay back on the grass, the warmth of the sun washing over him. His eyes closed, and for the first time in what felt like eons, he allowed himself to rest.

Even if it was a lie, even if it was fleeting… he let himself hope that this tranquility could last just a little longer. In the stillness of his rest, a gentle breeze whispered through the air, carrying with it the faint scent of blooming flowers and dew-soaked grass. 

Among the current, a single fig leaf floated, its journey unhurried and deliberate, as though guided by unseen hands. It landed softly atop Adam, draping over his bare form with a modest tenderness, shielding him from the vulnerability he could no longer feel.

He didn’t stir.

Adam lay motionless, his body heavy with the weight of his regrets. The world around him pulsed with serene life — the distant trill of birdsong, the rustling of leaves, the murmur of unseen waters — but he heard none of it. His mind was a storm, raging and unrelenting, dragging him into the depths of his despair.

The weight. The pain. The loss.

It was suffocating.

No mortal man could bear it, not for long. Yet Adam had borne these burdens across lifetimes, their weight growing heavier with every step, every failure. He had fought for everything — paradise, love, creation itself — only to lose it all. The ache of his soul, raw and bleeding, left him hollow.

In the deepest recesses of his mind, a grim thought tormented him, saying that he deserved it. 

His lips tightened, his body sinking deeper into the grass, as though the earth sought to claim him entirely. The grass was soft and cool, a stark contrast to the fire that burned in his mind. His chest rose and fell unevenly, each breath a reminder of the life he wasn’t sure he wanted to continue.

“Why do you test me so?” Adam muttered, his voice breaking the fragile stillness. It was barely more than a whisper, hoarse and laden with grief.

The sky above stretched endlessly, a boundless expanse of brilliant blue unmarred by clouds. It loomed vast and unfeeling, its perfection mocking the ruin inside him.

“You gave me life,” Adam continued, his tone quiet but laced with bitterness. “You granted me purpose. You blessed me with strength beyond measure.”

He paused, his throat tightening as he swallowed hard. His eyes searched the heavens, desperate and wild, as though they could offer him an answer.

“And for what!?” His voice rose, sharp and ragged. “What did it all amount to!?”

The question hung in the air, unanswered.

“Was I truly doomed to fail!?” Adam demanded, his fists clenching at his sides. The fig continued to cling to him, providing essential cover from the natural elements. His golden eyes burned with fury and desperation as they bore into the heavens. “Was I meant to lose to that fucking snake!? Was this all just some… game? A mere part of your oh’ so almighty plan?”

His voice cracked, the rawness of his anger giving way to something deeper, more fragile.

“Was everything I’ve done in your name — all the pain, all the sacrifices — was everything I fought for all for naught?!”

The world around him offered no reply. The gentle rustle of the wind, the warmth of the sun — they were indifferent to his anguish.

The fire in Adam’s eyes dimmed, replaced by a deep, aching sorrow. He exhaled shakily, his head sinking back into the grass as the weight of his despair pressed harder against his chest.

“Are you at least proud of me… Father?”

The words fell from his lips in a broken whisper, trembling under the weight of his longing. They carried the final threads of his resolve, unraveling into the stillness.

Adam’s eyes fluttered shut, the brilliance of the sun forcing him to retreat into darkness. Behind his closed lids, the storm of his thoughts swirled, chaotic and unrelenting. He searched for a sign — a voice, a touch, anything — but found only silence.

For a moment, he felt as though the world had abandoned him entirely.

But then, faint and distant, a sound broke through the stillness.

Adam’s brow furrowed. His ears perked, straining to catch the noise — a cry, soft and fractured, carried by the breeze. His chest tightened as the sound came again, this time clearer. It was a voice.

Something was calling for help.

His breath hitched, his body tensing as he sat upright. For a moment, he hesitated, his mind sluggish to process the sound. But the cry came again, louder and more desperate, resonating across the valley and through the forest.

Something stirred inside him — a spark, faint but insistent. His golden eyes snapped open, wide with concern.

Without thinking, Adam pushed himself to his feet. His legs felt heavy, his body stiff and reluctant to move, but the cries spurred him forward. He took a step. Then another. Then, as the cries grew louder, he broke into a sprint.

The forest loomed before him, its canopy thick and twisting, the beams of sunlight piercing through the leaves like scattered threads of gold. The air grew cooler as he plunged into its depths, the undergrowth brushing against his legs as he moved.

Adam’s breathing was steady, his strides deliberate, but doubt gnawed at the edges of his resolve.

“Why the fuck am I doing this?” he muttered under his breath, ducking beneath a low-hanging branch. The words were bitter, yet his pace never faltered. “I swear to the Almighty, this better not come back and bite me in the ass.”

The forest grew denser, the light dimming with every step. Shadows stretched longer, twisting into shapes that seemed almost alive. The cries, however, grew clearer, their desperation cutting through the oppressive silence.

Adam pushed harder, his feet pounding against the earth as he leaped over brambles and dodged jagged roots. He splashed through shallow streams, the cold water biting at his skin, and scrambled over uneven rocks. The terrain grew treacherous, but he didn’t slow.

“Father, guide my way,” he whispered, his voice steady but tinged with urgency.

The cries were close now, echoing through the trees like a beacon. His heart pounded as adrenaline surged through his veins, sharpening his focus.

Finally, the dense undergrowth parted, and Adam burst into a small clearing. He landed with practiced grace, his feet finding solid ground as his body straightened. The air around him was thick with tension, the cries abruptly silenced as the forest seemed to hold its breath.

One knee bent, fist pressed to the ground, Adam steadied himself, drawing in a slow, measured breath. His golden eyes flickered open, their piercing gaze landing on the source of the anguished howls that had echoed through the forest.  

There, lying on its side amidst the chaos of crushed foliage and broken branches, was a wolf. Its once-proud coat of gray fur and white underbelly was now marred and patchy, torn away in jagged clumps or scorched black as wisps of smoke rose faintly from its battered form. The animal’s chest heaved with labored breaths, each exhalation accompanied by a pitiful whimper.  

The sight tugged at something deep within Adam. He stood, moving toward the creature with careful, deliberate steps, his bare feet soundless against the soft grass. Yet, for all his care, the forest betrayed him — a dry twig snapped beneath his weight.  

The sharp sound jolted the wolf awake. Its amber eyes flashed open, filled with primal fear and pain. Despite its obvious weakness, the animal bared its teeth in a fierce snarl, a warning for Adam to stay away. Its growl rumbled low and guttural, a predator’s last defense.  

Adam paused, meeting the wolf’s gaze with an unflinching expression. He held its eyes, his stance calm but commanding. “Easy,” he murmured softly, his voice low and steady.  

The wolf's growl faltered, its head lowering slightly, but the tension in its body remained. Adam resumed his approach, step by cautious step, until he was within arm’s reach.  

The wolf tried to back away, its trembling legs pushing feebly against the ground, but it lacked the strength to retreat. It collapsed with a defeated whimper, its body sinking into the grass as it surrendered to whatever fate awaited it.  

Adam knelt beside the creature, his movements deliberate and gentle. His hand hovered above its bloodied flank, inspecting the injuries with a practiced eye. The wolf flinched as his fingers grazed its fur, a pitiful yelp escaping its throat.  

“I know,” Adam whispered, his tone soothing. “I know it hurts.”  

His eyes traced the claw marks etched across the wolf’s body, some shallow and others deep enough to reveal raw, mangled flesh beneath. Burn marks criss-crossed its side, the edges of the wounds still smoldering faintly. But it was the wolf’s leg that drew Adam’s attention — a gruesome sight. A large chunk of flesh had been torn away, leaving the limb mangled and drenched in blood.  

The stench of iron hung heavy in the air, mixing with the acrid scent of burnt fur. Adam exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening as he turned his gaze to the surrounding clearing. The earth bore the marks of a violent struggle — upturned soil, shattered branches, streaks of blood leading into the dense forest beyond.  

“A fight,” Adam murmured, piecing together the scene. His eyes scanned the shadows, searching for signs of the wolf’s attacker, but the predator was long gone. “Whatever did this… you fought hard.”  

He reached out again, his hand brushing against the wolf’s side. The animal shuddered at his touch but no longer had the strength to resist. Its amber eyes followed his every movement, a mixture of fear and resignation flickering in its gaze.  

“Stay with me,” Adam said quietly, his voice firm yet kind. “I’ll help you.”  

Adam knelt beside the wolf, his eyes scanning the animal’s broken form with a heavy heart. Blood pooled beneath its mangled leg, soaking into the earth, while bits of its fur hung in scorched and jagged clumps. Its amber eyes, dulled with exhaustion, glinted with fear as its body trembled with pain. Each labored breath was a struggle, the once-proud predator reduced to a pitiful shadow of its former self.  

The sight stirred something deep within Adam — a resolve, faint but insistent. He couldn’t leave it like this.  

Rising to his feet, Adam moved to the edge of the clearing, his eyes darting between the shadows of the undergrowth. He whispered something under his breath, his words a near-silent prayer. The air seemed to respond, rippling with a subtle energy. Leaves rustled, bushes trembled, and a cluster of herbs seemed to reveal itself from the foliage, their delicate leaves shimmering in the faint light.  

Adam knelt, his hands working quickly but carefully to gather the plants. Their earthy fragrance clung to his skin as he returned to the injured wolf. The animal’s amber eyes tracked him warily, its body tensing as though bracing for another attack.  

“This will sting,” Adam said softly, grinding the herbs between his palms. The mixture turned into a thick, fragrant paste, its pungent scent filling the air. “But I swear it will help.”  

He reached toward the wolf’s burns, his fingers brushing against its raw, blistered skin. The reaction was immediate.  

The wolf jerked violently, a piercing yelp escaping its throat. Its head whipped toward Adam, jaws snapping as it lunged.  

Adam didn’t flinch.  

The wolf’s teeth clamped down on his forearm, its growl reverberating through the clearing. The pressure was sharp and searing, but Adam’s expression remained calm, unyielding. He locked eyes with the wolf, his golden gaze meeting the animal’s wild, desperate glare.  

“I see you,” Adam whispered, his voice steady despite the pain. “I know what you’re feeling.”  

The wolf’s growl softened, its eyes flickering with uncertainty. Adam’s free hand moved slowly, brushing against the creature’s head. His fingers stroked its fur in soothing, deliberate motions, his touch gentle but firm.  

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice like a balm. “You’re safe now.”  

The wolf’s grip on his arm loosened, its growl fading into a low whimper. Its ears drooped, and its head lowered, pressing into Adam’s palm as though surrendering to his care.  

“I forgive you,” Adam said softly, lowering his forehead to rest against the wolf’s. The gesture was intimate, a silent promise between man and beast. In that moment, the divide between them seemed to vanish, replaced by an unspoken bond.  

The wolf let out a soft cry, its amber eyes glancing at the bite marks it had left on Adam’s arm. Regret flickered in its gaze, and it began to lick the wounds, its rough tongue moving with care.  

Adam chuckled faintly, his voice tinged with warmth. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for,” he said. “You’re just fighting to survive.”  

Turning his attention back to the wolf’s injuries, Adam began applying the herbal paste to its burns and scratches. The mixture was cool and soothing, spreading across the angry, blistered skin like a salve. The wolf flinched at first, its muscles twitching beneath Adam’s touch, but soon its body began to relax. Its breathing slowed, and the tension that had gripped it began to melt away.  

But the worst injury remained.  

Adam’s gaze fell to the wolf’s mangled leg, and the faint smile that had graced his lips disappeared. The wound was horrific — blood seeped from the torn flesh, staining the gray fur in dark crimson. Bits of muscle dangled from the gash, and the exposed tissue quivered with each shallow breath the wolf took.  

Adam exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening. He ran his hands through his hair, glancing around the clearing for anything he could use to treat the wound. His eyes landed on a patch of moss growing near the base of a tree. Its sponge-like texture sparked an idea.  

“This is going to hurt like hell,” he muttered, ripping the moss from the tree in large chunks. “But it’s the only way.”  

The wolf whimpered as Adam returned to its side, its amber eyes wide and filled with apprehension. Adam pressed the moss against the wound, using it to stem the bleeding.  

The wolf let out a sharp howl, its body convulsing in pain. It twisted violently, trying to escape his touch, but Adam held firm.  

“Stay still,” he commanded, his voice calm but unyielding. “I know it hurts like a bitch, but you have to let me do this.”  

The wolf’s growls faded into whines, its strength ebbing away. Adam worked quickly, wrapping more moss around the leg to cover the exposed tissue. He then scanned the clearing again, his golden eyes locking onto a cluster of vines coiled around a nearby tree.  

“That’ll do,” he said, rising to his feet.  

He tore the vines free, their coarse texture biting into his hands as he wrestled them from the bark. Returning to the wolf, he began tying the vines around its leg, securing the moss in place.  

The process was agonizing — for both of them. The wolf’s body trembled violently, its cries cutting through the stillness of the forest. Adam’s hands shook as he worked, blood and sweat mixing on his skin, but he didn’t stop.  

“You’re strong,” he murmured, his voice steady despite his exhaustion. “Stronger than you know.”  

Finally, the makeshift bandage was secured. Adam sat back on his heels, his chest heaving as he surveyed his work. The moss and vines formed a crude but functional dressing, holding the wound closed and protecting it from infection.  

“You’ll live,” Adam said softly, his voice tinged with relief.  

The wolf’s amber eyes blinked slowly, its gaze locking onto Adam’s. There was no fear left in its expression — only quiet gratitude.  

Adam reached out, his hand brushing against the wolf’s head. His fingers stroked its fur gently, his touch filled with an almost paternal care. The wolf leaned into his palm, letting out a low, contented rumble.  

“You’re going to be alright,” Adam said, his voice barely above a whisper.  

The wolf’s body relaxed, its eyes fluttering shut as it drifted into a fitful but peaceful sleep. Adam sat beside it, his hands bloodied and trembling, the cool breeze carrying away the heat of his exertion.  

For the time being, he allowed himself to rest. 

Adam found himself slowly adjusting to the serene rhythms of Eden. His hands, tender and unblemished, worked tirelessly yet gently, nurturing the Garden’s vibrant life. Every leaf, every petal, and every creature seemed to acknowledge him, their whispers in the breeze and the songs of birds carrying a note of welcome. 

With no particular destination in mind, Adam wandered the vast expanse of paradise, his bare feet treading soft grass and cool soil.

The lands around him were unlike anything his innocent heart could have imagined. Verdant hills rolled endlessly, each blade of grass a testament to perfection. Rivers wove silver threads through the terrain, their waters sparkling with a purity that mirrored the heavens. The sun bathed the Garden in a golden warmth, while the sky remained a serene blue canvas. 

Adam breathed deeply, his heart swelling with awe and gratitude for this flawless sanctuary. Yet, amidst all this perfection, he was acutely aware of his own ignorance, like a child exploring a world that held secrets just beyond his understanding.

As his journey stretched on, a heaviness crept into his limbs, an unfamiliar ache spreading through his legs. He paused, confused, his breath uneven. Then, as if a dam had burst within him, knowledge flooded his mind. It was not foreign or forced; it felt ancient and intrinsic, a whisper from the depths of his being.

He was tired. 

‘This is what tiredness feels like,’ the voice inside him seemed to say. And with it came a revelation. 

The solution was rest.

Adam sank beneath the shade of a towering tree, its majestic crown shielding him from the gentle rays of the sun. The bark, smooth and warm, seemed to embrace him as he leaned back.

For the first time, he allowed himself to feel the comfort of stillness. Yet, before peace could fully envelop him, another sensation emerged — a gnawing emptiness deep within. His stomach rumbled, and Adam instinctively placed a hand over it.

“I’m hungry,” he murmured, his voice tinged with both curiosity and discomfort.

The surrounding flora seemed to stir in response. The leaves rustled with an urgency, and the tree he rested upon began to tremble. Adam looked up, his eyes widening as the branches bent low, offering him a single fruit. It was unlike anything he had seen before. Its surface, a vibrant crimson, gleamed faintly in the daylight, and the air around it carried a sweet, tantalizing aroma.

Adam reached out hesitantly, his fingers brushing the smooth skin of the fruit. Though he had no words to express his gratitude, he bowed his head in silent thanks to the tree.

Lifting the fruit to his lips, he took a tentative bite. The crunch echoed softly, and the burst of sweet, juicy flavor overwhelmed his senses. The corners of his mouth grew sticky with nectar as he devoured the fruit, its heavenly taste filling the emptiness inside him.

When he finished, Adam stared at the core in his hand, marveling at the simple yet profound experience. He asked aloud, “What is this? What did I just partake?”

The trees, however, gave no reply. Their silence pressed upon him, a quiet urging to reflect. And then it came to him — a realization as clear as the rivers of Eden.

It was his purpose, his role, his responsibility to give form and identity to all that existed in this boundless paradise. The Divine had given him a name, a title that made him unique among creation. Now, it was his turn to bestow names upon the world around him.

He gazed at the fruit’s remains, the memory of its sweetness still vivid on his tongue. A name began to form in his mind, simple yet fitting. He thought of its beauty, its taste, and the joy it had brought him in his time of need.

“Apple,” he declared, his voice steady and filled with quiet reverence. “That is what this fruit shall be called.”

As the word left his lips, the Garden seemed to hum in approval, a subtle acknowledgment of his first act of creation. Adam smiled, his heart swelling with a sense of purpose. 

This was merely the beginning. His journey was no longer aimless; it was the dawn of a new understanding, the first step in a task that would shape the world forever.

A soft hum drifted through the forest, carrying with it a gentle yet haunting melody that pulled Adam from his momentary respite. His breath came shallow but steady, a controlled rhythm that belied the storm within. He felt hollow, a vessel weighed down by the remnants of broken promises and the scars of memories too discordant to piece together.

The rustling trees surrounding him seemed to whisper secrets, their voices mingling with the murmurs of his restless thoughts. He ran a tired hand down his face, his calloused fingers brushing against his perfect jawline as if trying to wipe away the weight of his burdens. 

His gaze lifted to the sky — a vast expanse of perfect blue. The world above was serene, a canvas of tranquility, yet the peace stopped there. Inside him, chaos reigned, gnawing at the edges of his soul.

A soft whimper broke his reverie. Adam turned, meeting the wide, amber eyes of the large gray wolf lying beside him. The beast — once wild and untamed — now seemed tethered to him, its loyalty forged in shared survival. It whimpered again, sensing the storm within the man who had saved its life.

Adam knelt beside the wolf, his rough hand finding its head, fingers brushing the thick fur in soothing strokes. “Hush now,” he murmured, his voice low and gentle, the words laced with a quiet understanding. His hand moved to rub the area around the wolf’s snout, offering comfort both for the wolf and himself. 

“You need not fret over me,” Adam said softly, his lips curving into a faint, bittersweet smile. “I was crafted in the likeness of the Divine, after all.”

The wolf tilted its head, confusion flickering in its eyes at Adam’s cryptic words. For a moment, Adam chuckled, the sound dry yet genuine. “It means,” he clarified, scratching behind the wolf’s ears, “that you don’t need to worry about me, young one. I’m not the type to be undone by such thoughts.”

The wolf let out a low, contented growl as Adam’s fingers found just the right spot. Its hind leg kicked reflexively, and soon its tongue lolled from its jaws, panting with bliss. Adam allowed himself a brief moment of amusement, his burdens momentarily forgotten as he observed the creature's delight.

His laughter faded as his eyes traced the wolf’s injuries. The wounds, once grievous and life-threatening, were now healing steadily. Burns that had marred its thick coat were fading, leaving behind tender patches of regrowth. 

Adam sighed in relief, a faint contentment flickering in his chest. Yet even as he acknowledged the wolf’s progress, an unease crept in. He knew all too well that the peace of this moment was fragile — a calm before the storm.

The wolf stirred, its powerful legs trembling as it pushed itself upright. Adam was by its side in an instant, steadying the beast as it wobbled. “Easy now,” he urged, his voice firm but kind. 

The wolf tested its footing, sniffing the air with a renewed determination. Its nose twitched, catching something — a familiar scent — and it barked, glancing at Adam before gesturing toward the dense forest with its head.

“What is it, boy?” Adam asked, his curiosity piqued. The wolf let out another bark, its golden eyes full of urgency. It took a hesitant step forward, faltering slightly. Adam moved alongside it, placing a supportive hand on its shoulder. Together, man and beast ventured into the shadowed woods, their path illuminated only by the waning daylight.

The forest grew darker as the sun began its descent, casting long, twisted shadows across their path. The thick canopy above transformed the atmosphere into one of shadowy mystique. Yet, instead of fear, there was a strange allure to the forest at dusk. The soft hum of nocturnal creatures stirred the air, their songs blending into an otherworldly symphony.

As they pushed deeper into the woods, tiny lights began to dance around them. At first, Adam thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. He blinked, rubbing his face, but the glowing orbs remained. They drifted closer, swirling and darting like fireflies, but their brilliance was too vivid, too magical.

One of the lights hovered inches from his face, revealing itself to be a tiny creature. It had delicate, translucent wings that shimmered like spun silver, its body slender and luminous. A small face peered back at him, eyes wide with curiosity and intelligence.

“Are these… Fairies?” Adam murmured, his voice laced with disbelief and awe. He reached out cautiously, half-expecting the little being to vanish. Instead, it chirped — a sound like the chime of a small bell — and spun in place, delighted by his attention.

“Either I must be tripping some serious balls right now or I'm not on Eden, or Earth, or whatever this place is called,” Adam muttered, half to himself, half to the wolf. The fairies — if that’s what they were — giggled, their tiny voices a cascade of joyful notes. They began to circle him, their laughter blending into a harmonious tune that seemed to vibrate in his very bones.

The wolf let out a soft bark, breaking Adam’s trance. He glanced down at his companion, who was watching the glowing beings with mild disinterest. Adam shook his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “You’re not impressed, huh? Fine, let’s keep moving.”

But the fairies had other plans. They darted ahead, their radiant forms lighting the way through the dense undergrowth. Adam hesitated, then offered them a nod of gratitude. “Thanks, little ones.”

Their response was a chorus of melodic chirps, and Adam felt a strange warmth in his chest — a flicker of hope amidst the shadows. With the fairies illuminating the path and the wolf at his side, he pressed forward, deeper into the forest’s embrace, unaware of what awaited but ready to face it nonetheless.

The glow of the fairies’ light danced across the forest floor as Adam and the wolf pressed on, the thick underbrush crunching softly beneath their steps. The deeper they ventured, the more Adam felt a peculiar stillness creeping over the woods, as if the trees themselves were holding their breath. The fairies, too, began to quiet, their glowing forms darting ahead with newfound purpose.

Suddenly, the wolf froze, its nose twitching in the air. It let out a low growl, not of warning but of alertness, its golden eyes fixed on something ahead. Adam followed its gaze, narrowing his eyes against the dim light. At first, he saw nothing but the shadows of the forest stretching endlessly into the dusk. Then, just beyond the veil of trees, a faint shape began to materialize.

A cottage.

Adam blinked, certain it was some trick of the fading light. But as they drew closer, the structure came into clearer view. It was small and modest, its wooden walls weathered and covered in patches of moss. 

A soft glow spilled from a window, casting a warm golden hue against the encroaching darkness. Smoke curled lazily from the crooked chimney, dispersing into the canopy above.

Adam raised an eyebrow, his arms folding tightly across his chest as he watched the wolf approach the quaint little cottage with purposeful strides. The scene before him felt surreal — something plucked straight out of a children’s bedtime story, but twisted just enough to feel unsettling.

“Boy, where the hell do you think you’re going?” Adam hissed through clenched teeth, his voice low but sharp. His eyes darted nervously to the surrounding forest, half-expecting something — or someone — to leap out from the shadows.

“For all we know,” he continued, his voice rising as frustration got the better of him, “there could be an ugly-ass, man-eating witch in there just waiting to snatch us up and cook us in her gnarly cauldron!”

The wolf, either deaf to Adam’s concerns or willfully ignoring them, padded up to the weathered door of the cottage. Its tail wagged once before it turned to look back at Adam, amber eyes bright with expectation.

Adam shook his head firmly, his brow furrowing in defiance. “Oh, no. Don’t give me that look. I’m not fucking going anywhere near that thing.”

The wolf let out a short huff and gestured toward the door with its snout, as if urging him to comply. 

“Listen, I get what you’re trying to do here,” Adam said, gesturing wildly with his hands, “but there is no fucking way I’m trespassing into someone else’s home. Do you have any idea how insane that sounds?!”

The wolf’s patience was visibly wearing thin. It let out a sharp, frustrated bark, shaking its head before gesturing toward the door again.

Adam threw his hands up in exasperation. “Nope. Absolutely not. There is nothing — and I mean nothing — in this entire cursed, green-ass forest that’s going to convince me to—”

A crack of thunder split the air, followed by a blinding flash of lightning that lit up the forest in an eerie white glow. Moments later, the heavens opened, and rain began to pour in torrential sheets. The icy droplets stung Adam’s face and quickly soaked through his clothes, clinging to his skin and sending shivers down his spine.

He froze, blinking up at the dark, angry sky. The wolf tilted its head upward as well, watching as heavy clouds churned above them. Then it glanced back at Adam, who was now conspicuously absent from his previous spot.

“Get in here, dog!” Adam’s voice came from the cottage doorway, where he stood dripping wet, the door creaking open behind him. The wolf trotted over, tail wagging in victory, and Adam grabbed it by the scruff to haul it inside.

Once the door slammed shut, the storm’s fury became muffled, the sound of raindrops hammering against the roof strangely soothing in contrast to the biting cold outside. Adam leaned back against the door with a deep sigh, wiping water from his face with one hand while the other rested on his hip.

“Now this is just fucking great,” he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “This is how horror stories start, you know. I hope you’re happy, because I'm throwing you under the bus the second we get in trouble.”

The fairies flitted inside after them, their soft golden light bringing a gentle warmth to the dim room. Adam and the wolf shook off the rain, droplets splattering onto the worn wooden floor. The wolf padded over to a chair where a towel had been conveniently left hanging and grabbed it with its teeth, carrying it to Adam.

“Well, aren’t you just a gentleman?” Adam quipped, taking the towel and rubbing it over his hair and face.

The wolf huffed softly and turned its attention to a nearby table where an oil lamp flickered weakly. It tapped the base of the lamp with its snout, watching the flame sputter. One of the fairies flitted over, its glow merging with the lamp’s light until the room was bathed in a steady, golden warmth.

Adam glanced around, taking in the space now that it was properly lit. The interior of the cottage was surprisingly cozy — almost inviting. A fire crackled in a stone hearth, the flames casting flickering shadows across the room. Shelves lined the walls, crammed with books, jars of dried herbs, and small trinkets that glittered in the firelight.

“So, uh,” Adam began, tossing the damp towel onto the chair, “how screwed are we once the owner realizes we’re here?”

The wolf ignored him, sniffing around the room with quiet curiosity.

His gaze wandered to the stone fireplace, where several framed photographs were arranged neatly on the mantel. One picture in particular caught his eye.

Stepping closer, Adam picked up the frame, studying the image within. It depicted a family of three: a rugged man with streaks of white in his dark beard, a woman with soft brunette hair draped in a crimson cloak, and a young girl standing between them.

The girl’s smile was radiant, her blue eyes filled with hope and innocence. Like her father, she had streaks of white in her dark hair, and she wore a small red cloak similar to her mother’s. The family looked so happy, so whole.

Adam’s expression darkened as he stared at the photo. Something about it tugged at the edges of his mind, stirring feelings he wasn’t ready to confront. He quickly set the frame back on the mantel, turning away as if to shield himself from the emotions threatening to surface.

The wolf barked softly, drawing his attention.

The wolf stood at the base of a narrow staircase, its amber eyes fixed on Adam. It barked again, then began ascending the steps slowly.

Adam followed, his boots creaking on the old wooden stairs. At the top, the wolf nosed open a door, revealing a modest bedroom. The storm outside was still raging, the wind howling and rain hammering against the windows.

The room was small but cozy, with a simple bed at its center, draped in soft, woven blankets. The faint scent of lavender lingered in the air, adding a touch of warmth to the otherwise gloomy atmosphere.

The wolf padded over to the bed and gestured for Adam to lie down with its nose.

Adam blinked, incredulous. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he said, crossing his arms. “You actually think I’m going to just jump into someone else’s bed? What do you take me for, fucking Goldilocks or something?”

The wolf rolled its eyes — actually rolled its eyes — before giving Adam a firm shove that sent him stumbling onto the bed. Before Adam could protest, the wolf grabbed the quilt with its teeth and pulled it over him, tucking it snugly around his body.

Adam lay there in stunned silence as the wolf barked softly and left the room, closing the door behind it.

“What the actual hell just happened?” Adam muttered, sitting up and running a hand through his damp hair. “Why the fuck did I just let that happen?”

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, ready to follow the wolf, but a wave of exhaustion suddenly hit him like a freight train. His limbs felt heavy, his muscles aching from the day’s events.

With a sigh, he sank back into the bed. The quilt was warm and soft, and the faint scent of lavender clung to the fabric. Outside, the storm raged on, but the room was calm, peaceful.

“Maybe just a few hours,” he murmured, his voice slurred with sleep. “If the owners show up… I’ll just… apologize…”

The words trailed off as sleep claimed him, the steady rhythm of the rain against the roof lulling him into a deep, world of rest.

It had been several days since Adam began to settle into the rhythms of his new existence, allowing himself to integrate into the Garden's divine order and harmonious cycles. The routines came naturally, yet each task felt imbued with a deeper purpose, as though his every action was a thread in the Almighty’s grand tapestry.

Adam had approached his duties with a diligence that bordered on reverence, his passion for the work evident in every choice he made. This was not mere obligation; it was creation itself, and he was the vessel through which the Creator's will was expressed.

Each day, he wandered through the verdant expanse of Eden, a realm teeming with life and endless wonder. He had fulfilled his charge as the namer and steward, bestowing identity and purpose upon the Creator’s living designs.

The birds that soared gracefully across the skies, their wings slicing through the heavens like the strokes of a painter’s brush, were named in his voice. The insects that crawled and scuttled upon the earth’s fertile soil, their industrious movements a testament to nature’s careful balance, bore names born of his thoughts.

Even the fish that darted through crystalline waters, their scales reflecting the sunlight like scattered jewels, had been given their place in creation through him. And the majestic beasts that roamed the land, their strength and elegance commanding both respect and awe, carried titles chosen by his hand.

Each name was more than a word; it was a purpose, a destiny woven into the fabric of existence. Adam marveled at the role he had been entrusted with, his heart swelling with a quiet pride as he watched the creatures thrive within the Garden's perfect harmony.

During these days of tireless effort, Adam found moments to pause and marvel at the beauty that surrounded him. The fruits of his labor were everywhere, a constant reminder of the perfection of Eden and the love of its Creator.

He wandered beneath the shade of towering trees, their branches heavy with vibrant, sweet fruit. The air was filled with the melodious songs of the birds he had named, their voices weaving a symphony that seemed to blend seamlessly with the gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze.

The crystalline streams that meandered through the land offered both sustenance and serenity, their waters glimmering like liquid glass as they reflected the golden light of Eden's eternal sun.

Adam often found himself drawn to the streams, kneeling by their banks to drink deeply from the cool, refreshing waters. He would watch as fish swam gracefully beneath the surface, their movements effortless and free.

One afternoon, as he lay beneath the canopy of a great tree, Adam felt a breeze stir the air around him. It carried with it the sweet scent of blooming flowers and the earthy fragrance of freshly turned soil. The breeze caressed his skin, a soft and comforting reminder of the Creator’s presence.

Closing his eyes, Adam allowed himself a moment of rest. His labor was good, and his heart swelled with gratitude for the life he had been given. He felt a sense of connection to everything around him, a profound understanding that he was not separate from the Garden but an integral part of its design.

The rustling leaves above whispered to him, their song mingling with the hum of insects and the distant calls of beasts. It was a melody of coexistence, a testament to the balance and order of creation.

Yet even amidst the beauty and perfection, there was an ache within Adam’s heart, a faint shadow that he could not fully name. It was not sorrow, nor was it discontent. Rather, it was a longing — a yearning for something he could not yet articulate.

He ran his hand over the soft grass beneath him, his fingers tracing patterns in the earth as his thoughts drifted. For all the magnificence of Eden, for all the life that surrounded him, there was a quiet emptiness within. He marveled at creation, yet he could not share that marvel with anyone.

Sighing softly, Adam sat up and gazed across the landscape. The light of the sun bathed the Garden in a golden glow, casting long shadows and illuminating every leaf and blade of grass. 

It was everything.

It was perfect. 

And yet…

The night gave way to the splendor of dawn, its golden rays piercing through the ancient canopy of the forest. Shafts of light danced over the dew-kissed foliage, spilling onto the windows of a modest cottage nestled within the woods. Inside, the faint glow crept across the room, inching toward the bed where Adam lay sprawled, cocooned in blankets.

The warmth stirred him. He groaned softly, turning his face deeper into the pillows, his golden eyes fluttering behind closed lids. His brow furrowed as a beam of light dared to tease his sleep away, and he mumbled incoherently, pulling the blanket higher over his head in defiance.

But the fragile peace shattered.

A scream erupted, sharp and shrill, slicing through the air like a blade. It reverberated through the room, through Adam, cutting him awake in an instant.

“What the fuck?!” Adam bolted upright, his heart pounding as adrenaline surged through his veins. Disoriented, he flailed briefly before gripping the edge of the bed for balance. The room spun, light and shadow blurring together, and the lingering haze of sleep clung to him like a fog. His mind scrambled to process what had just yanked him from his slumber.

His eyes settled on the source.

In the doorway stood a teenage girl, her face a storm of fury and utter disbelief. She was clad in a crimson hood that fell loosely around her shoulders, her dark brown hair streaked with stark white strands framing pale, sharp features. Her hands trembled slightly as they clenched into fists at her sides, and her vivid blue eyes burned like twin flames as they locked onto him.

“Mom! Dad!” she shrieked, her voice cracking with equal parts outrage and panic. She jabbed an accusing finger at him. “Why is there a naked stranger in my bed?!”

Adam blinked, his thoughts sluggish as they caught up to the situation. “Wait… what?” His voice was hoarse, his mind still fumbling in the aftermath of sleep. Slowly, he glanced down, the blanket pooling at his waist. His breath hitched as realization hit him like a slap to the face.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake…” he muttered, panic creeping into his tone. He clutched the blanket with both hands, yanking it higher as if it could erase the awkwardness of the moment.

The girl, however, was having none of it. With a furious stride, she stormed further into the room, her finger trembling as it pointed directly at him. “Who are you?!” she demanded, her voice rising with every word. “And what in Ever After are you doing in my room? Did you seriously think you could wander into someone’s house like some perverted Goldilocks?!”

Adam threw up his hands in a feeble attempt to defend himself, his golden eyes wide with alarm. “Whoa, whoa! Hold on to your tits, kid! This isn’t what it looks like!”

“Oh, really?” she snapped, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Because what it looks like is that I just came home to find a random naked guy lounging in my bed like he owns it! Are you insane?! Do you have a death wish?!”

Adam winced, rubbing his temples as her shrill accusations continued. “Goddammit, can you scream any fucking louder? I don’t think the birds outside got the memo!” He gestured toward the open window, his irritation simmering beneath the surface. “Calm the fuck down and let me speak!”

The girl’s jaw dropped, her expression shifting to one of incredulity. “Hexcuse me?!”

“First off,” Adam growled, standing to his full height, “I’m not naked.” He dropped the blanket, revealing himself to be wearing… a single fig leaf, precariously positioned to cover the bare minimum. The girl immediately went to cover her eyes and scream even louder.

Adam shielded his ears from the piercing cry before he shushed the girl and grabbed her attention, “Feast your eyes, babe. I told you I wasn't naked.” He said with a grin before pointing to the single fig leaf that barely covered the essentials which made the girl scream even louder.

“What in Fairy Godmother's name are you doing?! Pull the blanket back up, you sicko!” She said, pulling her cloak down to shield her eyes from the blinding visage of the man before her.

Adam was completely indifferent to the way the girl was reacting. “And secondly, I can explain what I'm doing here and why.” He said, not doing anything to cover himself.

“Oh, you’d better start explaining,” Cerise interrupted, keeping her face turned away while her voice was raised. “Because this is beyond gross! Do you have any idea how traumatizing it is to walk into your room and see this?” She gestured to everything wrong about the situation, which was Adam in all his glory.

Before Adam could retort, heavy pawsteps thundered up the stairs. The wolf from the night before — the one Adam had saved — burst into the room, its massive form nearly filling the doorway.

“Dad!” the girl cried, running to the wolf’s side.

Adam, meanwhile, froze, his mouth falling open. “Wait. Dad? ” He coughed, choking slightly on his own words. “Hold the fuck up. That’s your dad?”

The girl ignored him, her focus entirely on the wolf. “What happened to your arm?” she asked, her voice trembling with worry as she inspected the faint scarring left by his injuries. “And why are you still in your full-moon form?!”

The wolf growled softly, a sound that seemed both apologetic and reassuring. Its amber eyes shifted to Adam, who stood awkwardly by the bed, still clutching his fig leaf.

“Never mind that,” the girl continued, her worry giving way to renewed anger. She jabbed a finger toward Adam. “We’ll deal with that later. First, can you get this creepy, overgrown idiot out of my room?!”

Adam bristled, crossing his arms as his golden eyes narrowed. “Creepy? Idiot? Strong words coming from a bitchy mouth like yours, you brat.”

“Again, hexcuse me?” she shot back, stepping toward him with her hands on her hips. “You’re the one playing Jungle King in my bed!”

“Hey, I didn’t ask for this!” Adam retorted, throwing his hands up in frustration. “You think I wanted to end up here? Blame your dad — he’s the one who decided I needed to be tucked in like some damn fairy tale princess! Speaking of which, can we get back to the part where you explain how a fucking wolf is your Dad?!”

The wolf let out a low growl, stepping between them before the argument could escalate further.

“Enough,” he rumbled, his voice deep and commanding. He looked at his daughter, his tone softening. “Cerise, listen to me. This man saved my life. I was badly injured, and he could’ve left me for dead, but he didn’t. He helped me get back here, and I thought it only right to return the favor.” 

Cerise blinked, her anger faltering as she processed her father’s words. “Wait, he saved you?”

“Yes,” the wolf said firmly. “And I owe him a great debt.”

She hesitated, glancing between the wolf and Adam. Her expression softened slightly, but her tone remained sharp. “Fine. He saved you. Great. But that doesn’t explain why he’s in my bed!”

“Look, it was a long night,” The wolf said defensively, his tail flicking behind him. “I didn’t think you’d be back so soon—”

“That’s your hexcuse?!” Cerise cut him off, her hands flying up in exasperation. “You’re telling me you just dragged a random man into my room, into my bed, and thought that was totally fine because I wasn’t home?!"

The wolf huffed, his tone growing firmer. “Cerise, enough! I understand you’re upset, but this man didn’t ask for any of this. If you want to blame someone, blame me.”

Adam, still perched awkwardly on the bed, raised a hand. “Uh, I’d like there to not be any blaming at all, if that’s an option.”

Cerise shot him a glare so venomous it could have curdled milk. “You don’t get to talk right now.”

Adam threw up his hands in surrender, muttering under his breath. “Sure, fine. Just the guy who saved your dad. No big fucking deal or whatever.”

Cerise groaned, running a hand through her hair as she turned back to her father. “Dad, you cannot keep doing this. Do you have any idea how weird this is? Do you know how creepy it looks to just walk into your room and find—” She gestured wildly at Adam, her words failing her. “— that?!”

Adam snorted, shaking his head. “Trust me, kid. This ain’t exactly a picnic for me either.”

Cerise turned on her heel, storming toward the door. “Whatever after. I’m going downstairs,” she said over her shoulder. “If he’s still here by the time I come back, I’m burning the bed.”

The situation, though temporarily defused, left the air heavy with tension. Cerise’s booming steps echoed down the stairs, each stomp a sharp reminder of the chaos that had just transpired. Adam stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, one hand gripping the blanket around his waist while his golden eyes followed the wolf.

The wolf, now standing calmly at the doorway, turned its amber gaze on him. For a moment, neither spoke, the silence between them weighted by unspoken questions and shared exhaustion.

Adam finally broke the silence with a tired sigh. “Well, this was a shitshow if I’ve ever seen one.”

The wolf’s ears flicked, his tone deep and measured. “Savior, I believe an explanation is in order.”

“No shit,” Adam replied flatly, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

The wolf gave a low growl that sounded more like a rumble of agreement than a warning. He turned, padding toward the door before glancing back. “Come. I will shed some light on this situation. For now, my wife has prepared breakfast, and we would be honored if you would join us.”

Adam opened his mouth to retort but paused as the wolf added, “Oh, and please cover yourself while you're at it.” The wolf’s amber eyes gestured pointedly at the blanket Adam barely managed to keep wrapped around his waist.

Adam rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath. “You’re one to talk. You’re as naked as they come.”

The wolf ignored the comment, his massive form disappearing down the hallway. Adam was left standing there, staring at the empty doorway as the absurdity of the morning finally began to sink in.

“Breakfast? With the wolf family? Sure, why the fuck not,” Adam muttered to himself, his voice laced with dry sarcasm. His eye twitched as he tried to process everything — the screaming girl, the talking wolf, the fact that said wolf apparently had a wife waiting downstairs with pancakes.

He let out a long, beleaguered sigh, gripping the bridge of his nose. “Keep it fucking together, Adam,” he said aloud, his tone both a command and a plea. “You’ve dealt with worse. Hell, you’ve been through actual Hell. This? This is just… domestic insanity. You can handle it.”

Adam tightened the blanket around himself, its rough but warm fabric draping awkwardly over his tall frame as he lingered at the top of the stairs. The cool morning air brushed against his exposed skin, and he inhaled deeply, steadying the jittery unease bubbling inside him. The faint aroma of something cooking wafted upward, comforting and oddly nostalgic, but it wasn’t enough to quell the knot twisting in his gut.

The wooden steps groaned softly beneath his weight as he began his descent, each deliberate step filled with hesitation. It felt as though the entire forest held its breath, waiting for him to reach the bottom. His mind churned with thoughts, none of them helpful.

“Alright, Adam,” he muttered, his voice low and gravelly, as though speaking aloud might ground him. “Shit’s not as crazy as it looks. Just gotta ride the tide until this all blows over.” His grip on the banister tightened as he paused halfway down, his golden eyes narrowing at the sunlight streaming through the windows. It painted the quaint cottage in an ethereal glow that felt too serene for the chaos swirling in his mind.

“Stay positive,” he whispered, the words more for himself than anyone else. “Just... stay fucking positive.”

With a deep groan, Adam reached the bottom step, his blanket shifting slightly as he adjusted it for modesty’s sake. The wooden floorboards creaked beneath his feet, their protests echoing in the otherwise quiet house. He rubbed at his temples, the persistent thrum of a burgeoning headache gnawing at him.

“They’ll explain everything,” he said, his tone a mix of frustration and resignation. “And then, with any luck, I’ll be on my merry fucking way.”

The smell of food grew stronger as he approached the room ahead, the tantalizing scent stirring something in him — a pang of hunger, yes, but also a deeper longing for familiarity. Adam ran a hand through his unkempt hair, exhaling sharply as his thoughts tangled into a jumbled mess.

“Keep calm,” he muttered, the words almost a plea. “Please, Father above, don’t let this get more out of hand than it already is.”

The door to the dining area loomed ahead, the golden morning light spilling into the hallway like a beacon. Adam hesitated for a brief moment, his gaze fixed on the soft glow as if it held all the answers to his unspoken questions.

“Alright,” he murmured to himself, stepping forward with a determined nod. “Time to see how deep this rabbit hole goes.”

The room opened before him, bathed in the warm glow of sunlight filtering through sheer curtains. The cottage’s rustic charm was fully on display — simple wooden furniture, woven rugs, and a crackling hearth that gave the space an inviting warmth. Yet, it all felt surreal, like stepping into the pages of a storybook brought to life.

Adam couldn’t help but take a moment to absorb it all. Despite the absurdity of the last twenty-four hours, there was something about this place — its vibrant energy, its otherworldly allure — that tugged at a part of him he hadn’t felt in centuries.

The brief flicker of humor faded as he squared his shoulders, his gaze hardening with resolve. Whatever awaited him in that room, he would face it head-on. Because if there was one thing Adam had learned in his endless, chaotic existence, it was that running never solved anything.

“Here goes nothing,” he said, stepping into the room with a mix of trepidation and defiance, ready to confront whatever fresh madness this new world had in store for him.

For the sky was oh’ so much brighter.

The people were much livelier.

And the grass is always greener…