As they continued the tour, Nate's mind raced to keep up with the
mind-bending revelations.
"This is hell," Shawn declared with a solemn tone, "but we've been under
different management. You see, Satan became an inheritable position. It
was supposed to be an autocracy, however, when King Zagan who loves
politics for its acceptance of being structured evil, decided Satan could be
so much more powerful as a congress led by, you guessed it, Newly
appointed PRESIDENT Zagan.
The Congress Of Ruling Politician Satanists (C.O.R.P.S.) restructured
punishment, making it different from what you might have heard before.
Lost souls could get turned."
Nate's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Turned? What does that mean?"
"When a lost soul ends up here," Shawn began, his voice carrying the
weight of ages, "they can go through a process that's both haunting and
hopeful—a process where they change, where they learn and grow. Some
are given the chance to find redemption, a glimmer of hope during their
torment. Others, however, continue their descent into the darkest depths of
their souls."
"We've been dropping hints to you for a while now," Shawn admitted, his
voice softening. "You were being groomed to remember that you are
Lucifer."
Nate's mind raced as he attempted to process this revelation. "Wait, so
those feelings I've been having, those inklings... they were about this?"
Shawn nodded. "Hell doesn't currently have the ruler it needs. Many prefer
it that way, but others don't. They'd rather see you take charge. So, they've
been leaving hints, breadcrumbs, trying to lead you to your true identity.
Hell is no longer just a red fire it has turned black and fierce than ever
waiting for you to feed it with sinful souls."
Nate let out a sigh, his voice tinged with frustration. "I've picked up on some
of those hints, but my doubts always held me back from fully accepting it."
Shawn patted Nate's shoulder reassuringly. "It's natural to doubt, especially
when you're faced with something so monumental. But now that you're
starting to remember, you have a chance to change everything."
The realization struck Nate that he now understood why he would concoct
various ways he would punish people who would seemingly go out of their
way to treat him like garbage and torment him.
Like the food that had once seemed innocuous, had now become a form of
vindication for those thoughts. "I never did like to eat this crap. It always left
a bad aftertaste in my mouth."
"Let's continue the tour", Shawn insisted before continuing.
"Some souls are turned into machines," his voice carrying the weight of the
very souls he described, "machines designed to carry out the culinary
processes, the distribution, and packaging of the food we produce.
RE-OPERATOR INSTRUMENTS & ASSEMBLY is responsible for
orchestrating this twisted transformation."
"Re-operator, reaper. I get it." Nate established.
"I know it's quite clever. But what's truly unsettling is that these machines
retain their human consciousness and awareness. They're not mindless
automatons; they're souls trapped within a mechanical shell."
Nate listened intently, his mind marveling at the nightmarish images of
tortured souls ensnared in the mechanical confines of these devices.
"So, these machines," Nate's voice seemed to be developing a
commanding bass growl that made Shawn smile as he took notice, "they're
essentially tortured souls forced to exist in a perpetual mechanical
existence?"
Shawn nodded, his gaze was focused on Nate's temples, as two horns
made of amber light began to protrude from each side. "Yes, that's the
stone-cold truth. These souls are coerced to serve, compelled to perform
tasks that extend far beyond their human limits. They experience the
exhaustion, the burnout, and the very real pain of being overworked. Yet,
they're bound to run nonstop, driven by a force they cannot escape, until
they finally break under the relentless strain."
The brilliance of the structured torment before him oddly seemed to warm
Nate's heart, his mind swirling with delight for this kind of progressive
punishment, and his senses started to agree that he was never this
monkey called Nate. Like a frequency that his body tuned into, he could
feel the anguish and despair from the souls as they endured a form of
torment that defied the boundaries of life and death.
"And what if they finally break," Nate's voice now deep like a sea and as
dark as outer space, as though speaking of the inevitable end, "what
happens to them then?"
Shawn's response was chilling, carrying a sense of finality "They're
disassembled, their very essence broken down to its mechanical
components. These parts are repurposed to create new machines,
perpetuating the cycle of suffering. It's a grim cycle that sustains the very
system that torments them, ensuring their torment remains unending."
Shawn continued his tour of the facility, shedding light on the intricate and
sinister workings of their reality.
"The C.O.R.P.S. ," Shawn explained, his voice carrying a hint of bitterness.
"The President at the head of the table made the decision that this was the
best way to keep you from ever discovering who you were and taking
everything away from them. It's a twisted form of evil capitalism."
Nate's expression twisted in a mix of anger and frustration. "So, they
manipulated the very fabric of this world to prevent me from reclaiming my
identity?"
Shawn nodded, his gaze resolute. "Exactly. They liked the world the way it
was—controlled and subdued. They feared your potential to disrupt their
authority." It's a twisted form of evil capitalism."
"If my fathers intention was to allow me back into heaven pending I grow to
love humans, why would they believe I would even want this ball of rust
and decay?"
Shawn smirked, "For that, you can thank organized religions for their
prophecies about how once you were released from your prison, you would
bring hell on earth for one thousand years. You must understand, demons
are not the brightest bunch of beings. You were cast into your prison in the
year two thousand as opposed to being freed in that year. It's easier for me
to say what the prophecy got right. It was said the trumpets would sound
before you were released from your cage. Who was elected president
when you awoke from Nate's coma seven years ago?
"Donald Trump" Nate growled.
"And what was his Vice Presidents name? Mike Pence." Shawn stated.
"Trump, Pence. Trumpets." Nate said with a grin that revealed two
glistening razor sharp canine teeth to go along with the radiant amber
horns that now enveloped his body.
Shawn felt a growing excitement that he restrained as he concluded "Crazy
organized religious freaks made up some big evil red devil was going to
erupt from a big hole in the ground and make everyone get 6-6-6 tattoos or
some bullshit like that. Part of me thinks they got the trumpets thing right
and it wasn't dumb luck , because of the part where you emerge from a
hole. You did emerge from a hole, the blackhole that you were cast into that
connected you into this vessels mind."
As they moved through the factory, Shawn's words took on a deeper
significance, unraveling the complex web of manipulation that had kept
Nate in the dark.
"The C.O.R.P.S. didn't count on other fallen angels," Shawn continued, his
voice growing more determined, "reminding you, Lucifer of who you are
and giving you the knowledge needed to challenge their rule, to take over
the world, and to begin the war with heaven."Nate's eyes widened, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "So, let's face it,
I've never done well with being punished and the preposterous hypocrisy
that followed my fall, has manifested a previously unknown pinnacle of
disdain and desire to challenge my father's status quo. Whoever wrote that
prophecy was right. They knew that once I discovered what my father did to
me, that I wouldn't care to pass some deplorable test or to learn some
profound lesson, the only reason I would want to return to heaven was to
fight. That said, IF I were open to a fight, you're saying there are others
who would follow me?"
Shawn nodded. "Exactly. Some of us grew tired of waiting for a change that
we were led to believe would never happen under the authority here. Some
have been around for much longer than me, holding a higher rank. They
spoke of some form of covenant which devised a spell designed to locate
your prison and when they found it was in the form of a human they did
some other covert operations ,that I'm not allowed to know because it's
above my pay grade , in order to break your cosmic amnesia."
Nate's mind raced, struggling to process the enormity of the information
being revealed. "And that spell... how long ago was it performed?"
Shawn's smile was tinged with enthusiasm. "Cosmically, I heard it was
done shortly after your fall. Chronologically, here on earth, about five
hundred and seventy years ago. We believed it hadn't worked, but now I
know that it did."
"I didn't feel like I was real and after hearing people tell me how glad and
happy they were that I am alive and how lucky I am to have come back
from being brain dead, I started to believe I was in the afterlife. Everything
makes sense now. I am not, nor ever was this Nate character."
In a heartbeat, Nate's world shattered and reformed in a blaze of
unprecedented energy. A torrent of power surged through his veins, as if
the very essence of the universe had chosen to converge within him. This
was no ordinary sensation; it was a transformation beyond the confines of
human comprehension.
The metamorphosis took hold, reshaping him in ways that defied the laws
of nature. His once-familiar eyes, windows to his soul, were now a profound
shade of black, reflecting an infinite depth of knowledge and might that
surpassed human understanding. His physical form transcended its
limitations, as if the boundaries between the material and the ethereal were
no longer applicable. He expanded not in size, but in essence, radiating an
aura of pure light and energy that was both awe-inspiring and terrifying.
In a heartbeat, Nate's world shattered and reformed in a blaze of
unprecedented energy. A torrent of power surged through his veins, as if
the very essence of the universe had chosen to converge within him. This
was no ordinary sensation; it was a transformation beyond the confines of
human comprehension
Tearing through the flesh and bone prison cell, as all that remained of his
former vessel and restricting false identity burned away into ashes.
Lucifer's cage was no more.
As his perception shifted, the very fabric of reality seemed to ripple and
distort. The factory that had once housed the machinery of torment now
underwent a surreal transformation as if a result of his powerful energy. The
walls, once adorned with the anguished faces of tortured souls, now
emitted an otherworldly luminescence. The machinery, once instruments of
pain, emitted a hauntingly beautiful hum that resonated with the cosmic
power surging within him. It was as if the entire environment had become a
canvas for the manifestation of his reclaimed divinity.
In this state of transcendence, Lucifer's memories surged forth like a
torrential flood, each sensation vivid and visceral. He relived the sacred
magnificence of heaven, where the presence of God had once emanated
with an awe-inspiring grandeur. He felt the weight of his own purpose, a
profound sense of destiny that had driven him to challenge the very order
of creation.
His mind plunged into the memories of his final confrontation with God—a
clash of divine wills, ignited by the fervor of his own rebellion. The surge of
emotion that had set the heavens aflame, the searing energy of hatred and anger that had simmered beneath the surface long before his fall, all now
coursed through him with an intensity that transcended time itself.
And as the memories cascaded of his decent through the blackhole that
God had cast him into, like passing ships in the night, he saw flashes of
what must have been the soul of Nate along with his memories and
consciousness following like a rainbow of fire.
Time seemed to bend and twist as Lucifer's consciousness expanded
beyond the constraints of the present. He saw a glimpse of a future time, a
time of battle and conflict. Angels clashed, their wings ablaze with celestial
fire as they tore into each other with a ferocity that defied their divine
origins. Among the chaos, Lucifer saw himself, his form illuminated in the
midst of the fray.
The resonance of another memory seized him—a confrontation with
Michael, the archangel who had become his eternal adversary. The searing
pain of his left wing being torn from his back surged through him once
more, mingling with the resentment that had festered over the eons over an
event that had yet to happen while still managing to have already took
place.
As the torrent of memories and sensations subsided, Lucifer stood towering
in the transformed factory, his form still radiating with an otherworldly light.
He was no longer something called 'Nate', the filthy monkey who works at
the cereal factory.
He was Lucifer, the fallen angel who had challenged the very foundations
of heaven. The weight of his identity and purpose settled upon him, a
mantle of both power and responsibility that he couldn't ignore. The choices
he made from this moment onward would shape not only his fate but the
destiny of all existence.
Shawn admired the magnificent being that stood before him. His joy was
cut short by the realization that Lucifer's presence and energy would surely
not go unnoticed. "I've already let you know too much, and once they find
out, they will send me into the void forever," Shawn confessed, his voice
carrying a mixture of resignation and determination. "I don't care though,
because I'm tired of the C.O.R.P.S. and how they treat their own kind."
"We feel that Lucifer is the one who should be leading," Shawn continued,
his words imbued with a sense of defiance. "It was supposed to be a war
with heaven. Instead, we war with each other. The board likes it this way
because they fear losing, they fear being cast into nonexistence. But there
are many others who don't share their doubts and fears. They believe you
can lead us to victory, win the war, and create a new heaven. You are the
only one literally built to lead the battle against heaven and raise hell on
earth."
Shawn paused a brief moment before going on in a somber tone,
"If we wouldn't have told you who you were and freed you, do you think you
ever could have loved humans? I only ask because I've hears from others
who were around after your fall, that he chose that vessel and that time
because he knew you could get out of it and he hoped you would
love humans thus, ending your punishment and returning to your grace."
Lucifer's mind was too consumed with the magnitude of the responsibility
he was being presented with to respond to Shawn's question.
A war with Heaven. Ever since his creation, he never fathomed such a
thing. But now, it was seemingly an inevitability.
In this transcendent state of Lucifer's memories and emotions, of both his
past and his potential. The lines between the past, present, and future
blurred, and he stood at the nexus of existence, poised to challenge the
very fabric of creation and to confront the forces that had shaped their grim
reality.
"If I understand correctly, everyone in charge here is a garrison of hell,
which is now an soul harvesting corporation on earth and they all knew who
I really was the entire time I've worked under them?!" Lucifer demanded,
his question a pyroclastic flow of anger.
"For the most part," Shawn said before explaining further "It might have
seemed as though everyone around you is trying to provoke you. However,those actions are our attempts to awaken your anger and unleash your
divine wrath."
"I understand" Lucifer said.
"But there were some who had malicious intent. Why do you think someone
from human resources reached out to you a week after you got out of the
hospital? Because that's when they knew and decided they wanted to keep
you where they could watch you and poke at you with their proverbial
sticks." Shawn confessed hoping to be spared of Lucifer's wraith.
"I need to know who my allies are here. What more can you tell me?"
Lucifer commanded.
"I'll get to that, but there are a couple of things you need to be made aware
of. First is the small matter of Lilith." Sean replied softly before continuing,
"She was BANISHED from the C.O.R.P.S. and thought she could gain her
power back through you. I just have one question that I have wanted to ask
you from the moment I found out I was going to help free you. What kind of
torture are you gonna unleash on those who held you down?"
Without hesitating, Lucifer spoke. "There will be no physical torture. What
will become of them is what has become of them. Their punishment is to be
locked into the ordinary and unremarkable human existences they have all
been pretending to live forever. All except for Lilith. She can go and be that
famous singer she told me that she wanted to be, only she will never be
able to use magic or experience anything mystical for eternity."
A cynical smile formed on Lucifer's face and he suddenly began to sing,
"Cursed be those who scheme as foes and gladly stood in my way,
your only way out isn't a scream nor shout, twill be this universes'
final day. Those who set me free, with peace you shall be , and love
you will see. So mote it be, so it shall be!"
Lucifer's song boomed through the cereal factory, vibrating its very
foundation and beyond.
"That is without a doubt the worst thing you could do to them. Bravo you
are a true artist." Shawn said as a look of concern grew on his face.
"I sense there's more you have to tell me. "God held control over space and
time, a power beyond mortal grasp. He could have orchestrated my
existence in countless ways, guiding me through various lifetimes. But he
chose this vessel for a reason. Why did God choose this vessel, out of all
possibilities?" Lucifer's voice held again with a blend of curiosity and
frustration." Lucifer queried
"Correct and It's actually a bit more complex than everything else."
Shawn revealed nervously.
"Elaborate." Lucifer instructed
Shawn stood straight and composed himself and then explained, "This isn't
me telling you everything I know. This is me telling you everything anyone
knows about the covenant who got together and performed the spell to
locate your prison. Once they found it was in a human vessel, all they knew
is what vessel it was. They didn't know when exactly you were cast down
and assumed you had entered into it." Shawn's voice carried a solemn
tone, underscoring the gravity of his words. "Allow me to explain. the
covenant managed to transcend the confines of time and space. In an
extraordinary feat, they forged a pact with the vessel's mother—an
arrangement that offered her anything she desired for her son. In
exchange, she was bound to become the moon for a nascent planet. She
sought a book, a unique tome with an astounding power—the power to
make anything her son wrote within it come true."
Lucifer's gaze held a mix of intrigue and skepticism. "And how does this
intricate pact relate to my existence?"Shawn's reply came with a sense of unfolding revelation. "The significance
lies in what transpired next. The vessel's mother never got the chance to
fully disclose the book's true potency to her son. Fate, it seems, had its own
plans, she passed away before she could convey this knowledge to her
son, in a way that he could truly comprehend."
The implications of Shawn's words resonated deeply within Lucifer's
understanding. A book with the power to shape reality itself, interwoven
with a soul contract that transcended life and death.
" The covenant unbeknownst to them at the time, crafted a book capable of
creating paradoxes." Shawn took a deep breath before the words jumped
from his tongue and shot from his lips
Lucifer's brow furrowed, his patience wearing thin as he sought to grasp the
full implications of the revelation. "So, what exactly makes this scenario so
complex? And more importantly, what relevance does it have to my current
situation?"
Shawn hesitated briefly, his gaze holding a weight of gravity as he chose
his words carefully. "You, Lucifer, are not just a random entity within this
intricate narrative. You are, for lack of a better term, a character—a central
figure—in the pages of a book."
Lucifer's expression transformed from confusion to incredulity, his voice
tinged with disbelief. "A character in a book? You can't be serious."
Shawn's reply was measured, his tone unwavering. "I understand the
skepticism, but consider the nature of the vessel's mother's desire—a book
that can make anything written within it come true. The very reality around
us, the world we inhabit, is intricately woven into the fabric of this narrative.
Every event, every interaction, every facet of existence itself—all guided by
the words that fill the pages of that book."
Lucifer's mind whirled, grappling with the enormity of this revelation. The
very essence of his being, the suffering he had endured, the struggles he
had faced—could they all be a product of this cosmic narrative? The idea seemed both surreal and unsettling, a testament to the vastness of the
forces at play.
"Wait, you're suggesting that my entire existence, my experiences, are
merely the product of a story?" Lucifer's voice held a mix of incredulity and
frustration.
The glare from the black eyes of Lucifer coupled with an unsettling silence
was enough to invoke feelings of worry and provoke Shawn to cut the
tension by stammering out every remaining bit of information he had been
privy to about the book of paradox.
Shawn continued, delving deeper into the intricate layers of this cosmic
narrative. "Consider how the vessel, Nate, evolved over time. As he grew
older, he developed a keen interest in the concept of free
energy—harnessing the boundless power of the universe to revolutionize
the world. He began to write a story, a tale of a version of himself who
discovered a revolutionary method to tap into this free energy, shaping the
world in ways that were beyond imagination." he came up with the theory
that there is a way to harness and direct the intent of energy . He decided
to write a short story about himself on his mission to invent a device
capable of proving his theory."
Lucifer's attention was rapt, his gaze fixed on Shawn as he absorbed the
unfolding narrative. "And what was the outcome of this story?"
Shawn's voice held a sense of wonder, tinged with gravity. "The story was
left unfinished, a reflection of Nate's own limitations and the complexity of
the ideas he was exploring. In addition to the loss of his love. Yet, the
character he had crafted within that narrative shared his same aspirations,
his same unfinished intent and untamed ideas. In a twist of fate, since
everything within that book has the power to become reality, that universe
became real, existing alongside our own."
Lucifer's brow furrowed as he grappled with the implications of this
revelation. "You're saying that the universe within this unfinished story
became a reality of its own?"
Shawn nodded, his gaze unwavering. "Exactly. This universe, created by
Nate's unfinished narrative, became tangible and self-contained. And within
that universe, the character he had written—a variant of
himself—possessed the very ability to shape reality through storytelling,
just as he had envisioned. It's a nested narrative, a story within a story, a
reflection of the immense power that the written word holds within the
scope of this cosmic design."
"Why did he lose interest?" Lucifer asked
"Remember how I told you Alana was a whole different story?"
"The gaslighting plant manager, yes I remember." Lucifer said with a hint of
disdain.
"She was Nate's love who died in a car wreck and he couldn't get over the
guilt and regret he experienced after her loss and fell into a alcohol fueled
depression."
"Do you mean to tell me, I am not even the authentic Lucifer, I am some
character derived from the mourning mind of a drunk, pathetic writer?!"
"Well, you are known as 'The morning star'." Shawn offered with a smirk.
Shawn cautiously studied the expression on Lucifer's face before offering
his response, "You were always imprisoned in his mind. The Covenants
ritual released you when he began writing this story."
"How does this make me the real Lucifer?"
"I'll continue," Shawn said swiftly, "He stopped writing your story after you
told me of your theory on the fall. Don't you see? Those were your memories and since he unknowingly wrote them in this paradoxically
enchanted book, you were set free."
The glowing angelic form gave Shawn a nod to continue.
"Our universe took a life of it's own after that. Anything that happens now is
undocumented. You write the future!"
Lucifer broke his silence, "So you're telling me that because we are
contained in some magic book that has the power of paradox, anything I
write becomes reality?"
Shawn hesitated slightly then countered, "Not in our present reality you
will be creating a new reality"
Lucifer's mind was going over every possible strategy with trillions of
potential outcomes, however, there was only one end that was more
apparent than the rest. It would spell his definitive victory. But it came with
an unfathomable price.
"This is magnificent! A weapon beyond compare. I won't need a sword,
dagger, or spear to challenge God in heaven. I'll wield the power of words
to script my own victory."
Shawn's expression held a mix of curiosity and caution. "But how do you
plan to achieve that? How can you challenge the might of heaven itself?"
Lucifer's grin held a touch of mischief, as he shared the bold idea that had
taken root within him. "I'll take a page from God's own playbook, so to
speak."
Shawn's brow furrowed in intrigue. "What do you mean?"
Lucifer's voice resonated with a quiet confidence. "God fashioned
existence, shaped reality, and authored our story. If I'm to challenge
heaven, then I'll do it using the very power that created it all. I'll write a new
narrative, one that redefines the rules, transcends the boundaries, and
reshapes the destiny of our existence.""The answer is remarkably simple," Lucifer declared with an air of finality,
his gaze piercing through the fabric of their reality. "I will craft a variant of
this vessel, one endowed with unprecedented power—power enough to
shatter the very foundations of existence . This version will be so mighty
that he can break free from the confines of this novel-like prison and wield
the ability to annihilate everything that God holds dear."
As Lucifer spoke, a sense of clarity washed over him, a realization of the
path he must take to confront the seemingly insurmountable. His eyes
blazed with determination, his voice resonating with newfound purpose.
"I've come to understand that the battle I've sought with God can never
truly be won in the traditional sense. So, if I can't defeat him, I'll do the next
best thing—I'll write him and myself out of existence."With malevolent smile
Lucifer decided he was ready to pay the ultimate price.
The unfolding narrative, once a tale of cosmic struggle, now shifted to a
new direction, where he, Lucifer, would wield the ultimate power over
existence itself.
The story of Heaven and Hell, of angels and demons, would reach its
conclusion here, authored by his will and shaped by his creativity.
"Our story ends here."
"Heaven AND Hell? That's heresy! There's got to be another way. Can't
you come up with something better?" Shawn plead.
"Heresy, that is amusing. Here's a theory, more like a universal truth; as
you said; anything I create is going to be in another reality. There's nothing
I can do here. The greatest blow I can deal to God is: completely writing
heaven and hell out of existence." His aura grew brighter and more vibrant
as Lucifer spoke, "Fetch me some paper and if anyone gets in your way, tell
them I'm tendering my resignation!"
Shawn hurried back with a stack of paper he handed to Lucifer "They say
the greatest trick I ever pulled was convincing the world I didn't exist, well
now it's my final trick, because I will not. All I need is a pen and some ink." Like a coiled snake striking an unsuspecting rodent, Lucifer suddenly
grabbed a terrified Shawn by the arm and surgically tore the middle finger
from his hand and stripping it to the bone. Shawn whimpered helpless as
his severed finger was dipped into the pool of his blood and watched as it
was being used as a pen that began writing God and Lucifer's final
decimation.
TO BE CONTINUED…