A long time ago, before anyone was keeping track, the heavens and hell were locked in this endless fight. Angels versus demons—the usual. One of the scariest demons out there? Asmodeus. Not because he was wild and chaotic, but because he was smart. Cunning. He had a real chip on his shoulder, and it was aimed squarely at the angels.
He led his crew into battle after battle, always with a plan, always one step ahead. The angels? Yeah, they hated him. Saw him as a threat that had to be shut down, permanently. They knew they couldn't take him in a straight fight, so they set a trap, a good one.
One day, while Asmodeus and his crew were cutting through some empty valley, boom—the sky darkened, and angels descended. Light and fire everywhere, swords gleaming. It was chaos. His sword clashed with theirs, sending shockwaves, but he could feel it—this wasn't a fight they were going to win.
His men, the ones who had stood by him for centuries, fell one by one. The divine light took them apart. Asmodeus could see it coming for him, too. No way out. Well, unless…
"I am not dying here," he muttered to himself, his eyes scanning for a way out.
He let loose a blast of dark fire, blinding the angels just long enough for him to slip into the mist. The angels searched, but they weren't catching him—not today.
I'll die on my own terms, not theirs.
He fled for days, moving deeper into lands even the angels wouldn't touch. His injuries slowed him, but he didn't stop. Not until he found it: a valley, isolated, wrapped in thick mist, and... power. A place hidden from heaven's gaze. It felt right.
Perfect, he thought. But they'll come. Sooner or later, they'll come.
That's when the idea hit him. He remembered an ancient ritual, something even demons barely talked about. Dangerous, sure. But at this point, what did he have to lose?
No hesitation, he got to work. He cast barriers around the valley, layering it with illusions, traps, and curses. He wasn't taking any chances. No one would find him here.
Now for the hard part.
At the heart of the valley, Asmodeus carved runes into the ground. Symbols of death and vengeance—things that meant business. The air around him buzzed with dark energy as he began to chant, his voice low and sharp.
"Corpus immobile in perpetuum maneat, Meo odio alitur, meum tempus reciperet."
Let my body remain unmoving for eternity, fed by my hatred, to reclaim my time.
The ground shook, and he felt power surge through him. This was it—the point of no return. His voice rose, echoing through the valley.
"In tenebris ego vivam, in luce peribo, Cum angelorum progenie ultionem capiam."
In darkness, I shall live. In light, I shall perish. Upon the offspring of angels, I will seek my revenge.
Cracks formed in the earth, dark mist rising from them, wrapping around his body. Asmodeus gritted his teeth, feeling his soul starting to disconnect, hovering between life and death. His body stiffened, but his mind—oh, his mind was sharper than ever, burning with hatred.
Not yet, he thought. Not until I've had my revenge.
One last chant, louder, angrier:
"Millennio transacto, corpus meum resurgit, Descendentibus angelis, ultimam ultionem parans."
After a millennium, my body will rise again, preparing the final revenge against the angels' descendants.
With that, it was done. His body sealed in a cocoon of dark magic, the valley fell silent. Asmodeus was no longer part of the living world, but he wasn't gone. Not even close.
He waited. And waited.
A million years passed, but Asmodeus barely noticed. His hatred? That stayed fresh. The time to return was drawing near. He could feel the magic stirring around him, waking him up.
Finally.
His soul surged forward, ready to reclaim his body, ready to get back to business. But then… something hit him. A force. Something else was trying to enter the body.
What the—? This is mine.
He pushed back, but the other soul—this... human—was relentless.
No. This body's mine. You don't belong here.
Asmodeus roared in the void, his energy crashing into the human's soul, but the human wasn't backing down. It was filled with something powerful—rage, desperation. It fought just as hard as he did, maybe harder. And suddenly, Asmodeus felt himself slipping. The human was anchoring itself to the body. His body.
No! he screamed, trapped in the darkness of his own mind. This is mine!
Too late. He felt himself being shoved into the corners of his own consciousness. He wasn't in control anymore.
He could feel the body waking up, the heart beating, the lungs filling with air, but it wasn't him doing it. The human had taken over.
Who the hell are you? Asmodeus hissed into the void of their shared mind. How dare you take what's mine?!
Nothing. No answer. The soul was calm, focused, and it was moving his body. He saw through his own eyes as they opened to a world he hadn't seen in centuries. A voice finally spoke, but not to him.
"Jess... I told you I'd come back."
The name hit Asmodeus like a slap in the face. A mortal? This soul was here for revenge. Against some human.
He nearly laughed at the absurdity. A mortal, seeking vengeance? Just like me.
He pushed harder, trying to reclaim control.
You won't stay here. This body's mine! Leave, or I'll destroy you!
Still nothing. The human soul ignored him, like he wasn't even there. Asmodeus burned with rage at the thought of being dismissed by a human of all things.
You dare ignore me? You can't silence me. I am Asmodeus. Prince of Demons! I will tear you apart!
The body moved forward, unaffected. The lips parted, and a cold, measured voice came out.
"I have no time for demons. I have a mission. A purpose. And nothing will stop me."
Listen to me! Asmodeus screamed, fury boiling inside him. You think you're in control? You're nothing!
But still, the mortal—Noir—was unmoved. His hands flexed, testing the strength of the demon's form.
"I don't need your power," Noir muttered, his voice flat. "I need your body. And you're just an inconvenience."
Asmodeus seethed. You cannot ignore me forever! I will break you, human!
But Noir's focus never wavered. He had only one goal—revenge.
"I will find you, Jess," Noir whispered again. "And I will make you pay."
Each step Noir took, Asmodeus felt it. Every movement, every decision. Yet, there was nothing he could do. Noir was in control.
You'll regret this, Asmodeus snarled. You'll regret the day you crossed me!
Noir kept walking, silent, cold, and completely in control. He didn't care about Asmodeus. He didn't care about demons or power. His mind was locked on one thing—Jess. His revenge.
Asmodeus burned, trapped in his own body, reduced to nothing but a voice. But one day, one day, he'd get out.
You will beg for mercy, mortal.
But there was only silence. Noir didn't care. He had seen too much, felt too much to let anything get in the way of what he wanted.
And as they walked—two souls, one body—only one thing was clear. Noir was going to stop at nothing to get his revenge.
The reason Noir was able to overpower Asmodeus comes down to one simple thing: desperation.
Asmodeus, for all his demonic power and ancient wisdom, had prepared for this moment for centuries, but there was a flaw in his plan. He underestimated the human soul, especially one that clung to life with such a fierce, all-consuming need for vengeance. While Asmodeus was a powerful being, his drive had simmered over the millennia, becoming cold and calculating. Noir's desperation, however, was fresh—his hatred, his anger, were raw and undiluted by time.
That's the thing about desperation—it doesn't care about rules or plans. It doesn't hesitate. It simply takes.
As Asmodeus prepared to reclaim his body, Noir surged ahead with a kind of reckless determination that the demon hadn't expected. Where Asmodeus's power was ancient and calculated, Noir's was immediate, desperate, and wild. It was a kind of strength that wasn't about control—it was about need. Noir needed to come back. He needed to settle the score with Jess. And that made him more dangerous than the demon could've anticipated.
Asmodeus had been thinking like a strategist, but Noir? Noir was just a storm, a force that didn't stop to think or plan, because all he had left was the singular goal of revenge. His emotions were a weapon sharper than any blade or spell, and in that moment, it was enough to take the advantage.
And that's why Noir won.
In the struggle for control of the body, Asmodeus had relied on power, but Noir used his desperation—his sheer will—to push through. The human soul may have been weaker in strength, but it burned hotter, fiercer, and with an intensity that overwhelmed the demon. Noir's desire to return, to make Jess pay for everything, was the edge he needed.
By the time Asmodeus realized what was happening, it was too late. Noir had already locked himself into the body, his soul settling in and refusing to be dislodged. The demon was pushed back, trapped in the recesses of his own mind, powerless to stop the human from taking over.
Asmodeus, bound by his ancient pride and hatred, couldn't comprehend the relentless determination of a human who had been so utterly wronged. In that moment, Noir was more than just a mortal. He was the embodiment of vengeance, and no ancient demon, no matter how powerful, could stand in the way of that.
And so, despite all his cunning and preparation, Asmodeus lost.
Noir's raw need to come back, to settle the score, had overwhelmed the demon prince's ancient power. Now, Asmodeus was just a voice in the back of the mind, a passenger in his own body, while Noir controlled everything.
This wasn't a victory of strength. It was a victory of will. Noir needed this more than Asmodeus ever could.
And that's how Noir, a mere human, took control of a demon's body.