A Seraphim, an angelic being belonging to the highest order of the ninefold celestial hierarchy, one of them is the Seraphim of Darkness. and I, Jack Dawson, a reincarnation of the Seraphim of Darkness.
The almighty seraphims of heaven possess the ability to alter their own souls and reincarnate into the surface world in a physical body.
Freed from a seal that lasted 2,700 years, I used this soul technique to become human and observe the changes in the world—or, to be honest, fully enjoy them.
It has been 2,700 long years since I last saw the surface world. How much could it have changed? From the moment of my descent, I have been eager to explore it.
To explain why I was sealed for so long, we must go back to the creation of this world. The sky was formed, the seas were created, the land was shaped, and finally, the people who would inhabit the land—humans—were born. At that time, all six seraphims, including myself, were sent to Earth to watch over humans.
At that pivotal moment, one of the seraphims said, "Let's make humans the slaves of seraphims."
I opposed the idea immediately. Humans could not be treated as slaves. They were living beings, free to forge their own paths. Even though we were their guardians, it was unthinkable to rule them on a whim.
The seraphims were divided on the matter, and a conflict ensued. I lost the battle and was sealed away.
The remaining five seraphims—all proponents of enslaving humans—prevailed. During my absence, humanity lived under their subjugation, bound to the will of their divine rulers. Yet I held onto my belief in humanity. I trusted that humans, in their resilience, would overcome adversity and evolve uniquely.
Humans are strong, wise, and deeply compassionate.
Now, as a human myself, I live among them, experiencing life from their perspective to truly appreciate the world I have not seen for 2,700 years.
I was reborn in a remote mountain village, the only child of a humble married couple. My father is a hunter—a jack-of-all-trades, really. Hunting doesn't provide much income in our small village, so he also gathers firewood, harvests wild plants, and takes on various other forest-related tasks. His skill in these areas has earned him respect among the villagers.
As his son, I am expected to follow in his footsteps, and I am content with that. Living quietly in this small village is, in its own way, a fulfilling human experience. The Seraphim of Darkness, now human, enjoying a simple life until its natural end—this is what I had planned.
But that all changed on a particular day.
With a sharp whistle through the air, the arrow flew. It struck the wild boar squarely, the beast letting out an agonized cry before collapsing.
"I got it!" I exclaimed, rushing toward the fallen animal.
The boar was already dead, sparing us the need for a finishing blow. My father soon joined me, lowering his bow.
"Well done, Jack. No need for me to fire a second shot," he praised.
"No way. I only had the confidence to shoot because I knew you would step in if I missed," I replied modestly.
Even so, the satisfaction of taking down the boar was immense.
"Father, let's butcher it quickly. The meat is rich in nutrients; we have to make sure Mother eats some!" I said enthusiastically.
"Jack, there's something you need to do first," Father reminded me.
Realizing my oversight, I quickly set my bow aside and knelt beside the boar. Placing my hands together, I offered a silent prayer for the life we had taken—a sacred practice shared among hunters.
Once the ritual was complete, we began preparing to butcher the animal.
"The nearest water source is…"
"Over here, Father!" I said, recalling the river's location. Hoisting the boar onto my back, I led the way.
At the riverbank, we set to work. The boar's blood flowed freely, and the water made cleaning easier. We carefully separated the meat, hide, bones, and fat, ensuring every part would be used.
"Jack, you've grown into a fine man," Father said as we worked.
"I still have much to learn from you," I replied sincerely.
"No, there's little left for me to teach you. You're an exceptional son, far more capable than your mother and I ever imagined. But, there's something I've been meaning to—"
"Wait," I interrupted, spotting something unusual in the grass. I passed the boar to Father and crouched down.
"This plant… If I'm not mistaken, it's used for treating heart conditions.Peter, the village pharmacist, taught me that," I explained.
"You even know that now?" Father said, astonished.
"When we return, we should ask Peter to prepare it. It might help ease Mother's illness," I said, carefully wrapping the plant in oiled paper.
Once the dismantling was complete, we began the journey back to the village. The forest was serene, but as we approached home, an unsettling tension hung in the air.
"What's going on?" Father and I exchanged wary glances as we quickened our pace toward the village.
As we neared the village, my heart sank. A chilling scene unfolded before us—an overwhelming disturbance that shattered the quiet life we had known.
Our small village, home to less than fifty souls, was swarmed with over a hundred strangers. These intruders, clad in gleaming white armor, stood out starkly against the earth-toned simplicity of our people. They moved with menace, their weapons drawn, shouting commands that echoed through the air.
"Round up all the villagers!" the leader bellowed, his voice sharp with authority and cruelty. "Especially those aged 10 to 20! No exceptions—find them all!"
The armored men—knights, clearly from the city—marched through the village like predators on a hunt. They forced doors open, dragged out families, and herded everyone into the square as though they were cattle. Fear and confusion rippled through the villagers, their faces pale with despair.
Father and I, having returned from our hunting trip, crouched in the shadows of the forest, watching this nightmare unfold.
"What's happening, Father?!" I whispered fiercely, my chest tight with urgency.
"These men… They must be from the city. Look at their armor—polished and pristine. They don't belong here," he replied, his voice low but strained.
I nodded, my mind racing. Memories from my life as Seraphim of Darkness stirred within me. The crest on their banners was unmistakable: the sigil of the Light Seraphims, but now they called it Light Goddesses. A bitter taste filled my mouth. These men bore the mark of the one who claimed dominion over humanity, using her influence to subjugate mortals in her name.
After 18 years of living as a human in this remote corner of the world, I had avoided the broader workings of society. That ignorance now left me blindsided.
"Father, let's go to the village chief! We need answers!"
"Wait!" I hissed, grabbing his arm as he prepared to step out. "If we go now, they'll see us. We'll be taken like the others. For now, we stay hidden until we understand what they want."
He hesitated, his fatherly instincts at war with my logic, but he relented. "You're right," he said reluctantly. "You always seem wiser than your years. It's strange for a son to sound like the parent."
I offered a thin smile. "Not at all, Father. I'm just your son."
But even as I said it, my chest tightened. I wasn't just his son—I am the Seraphim Of Darkness. Yet here I was, desperately clinging to this fragile life, this family I had come to love more than my ancient pride.
"Still," I whispered, glancing toward the house, "we need to move. We can't just stand by."
Father nodded, and together, we circled the village, careful to stay within the cover of the trees. Our destination was clear: home.
My mother, frail and often bedridden, would be in the house. The thought of her facing these knights alone twisted my gut with dread.
As we neared the house, a shout broke the tense silence.
"Come out immediately! The Light Goddess demands your presence!"
I froze as I saw a knight dragging my mother from the house. She stumbled, her body weak and trembling, barely able to stand. Her face was pale, her condition clearly worsened by the stress of the situation.
Rage surged within me. My mother was a miracle—a woman who had been told she could never bear a child, yet who had brought me into this world despite all odds. She had poured every ounce of her love into raising me, even with her fragile health. I had caused her countless worries, from my unusual birth to my endless curiosity as a child.
I remembered the time I disappeared for a day when I was only one year old. I had wandered off to explore the world, driven by my celestial curiosity, only to return and find her weeping in fear and relief. It was then I realized: I wasn't just a former angel in disguise—I was her son, her beloved child.
And now, they were hurting her.
I didn't think. My body moved before my mind could catch up.
"Jack, wait!" Father's voice was distant, lost in the roar of blood in my ears.
I broke from the shadows, sprinting toward the knight.
"Eh? What the—?!"
My fist connected with his helmet before he could react. The force sent him sprawling to the ground.
"Mother!" I called out, standing protectively in front of her.
"Jack! No! Run!" she pleaded, her voice weak yet frantic.
But I didn't move. I planted myself between her and the knights, meeting their stunned gazes with a burning glare.
"If any of you lay a hand on her, I'll make sure you regret it," I growled, my voice low and steady.
The knights hesitated, their confusion evident. I was just a boy—I was something else entirely. They didn't know the half of it.
"You want to hurt someone? Try me," I challenged, fist clenched and heart pounding. But if you do, don't expect to leave here in one piece."