Lucifer sat upon his large black throne, adorned with the skulls of fallen enemies, a huge smile spread across his face. Beside him lay his trusted companion—a hellhound. The creature rested at his side as he gently stroked its matted black fur, smoke rising from its coat with each caress. The structure around him shook violently, as if it were being torn apart, and with every passing second, the intensity of the tremors only increased.
"You hear that Sin; brother is almost here" he said addressing the beast in a playful tone.
Grrr-rrr!! The hellhound let out a low growl.
"It's all right. We'll have a quick chat, and then I'll send him on his way. You know, family is important, Sin. Even when you fight, they're the only ones who truly understand you. Though we don't share the same blood, you and I are also family. I suppose that makes Michael your family too, doesn't it?"
Grrr-rrr!!
As Lucifer sat waiting, his army was being torn apart by an unimaginable power they couldn't hope to match. With every soldier that fell, he felt a surge of unrelenting rage, slowly building as he watched his empire crumble. Soon, that rage would manifest as a harbinger, one driven solely by a desire for destruction and carnage.
"This war has gone on for too long. I'll put an end to it; matter of fact, I'll put an end to everything," Lucifer said, maintaining his joyful exterior.
Meanwhile, the devastating presence continued to approach them, crushing everything in its path. The mere existence of this being was enough to alter the dreadful atmosphere of Hell. It was like a star, forcing everything to orbit around it. Every life seemed to belong to this single entity; in comparison, the existence of everything else felt insignificant. It caused Hell to freeze over—literally.
As it drew closer, the tremors reached their peak. It was as if the entire universe was shaking, with this being as its focal point. Sensing the presence, the hellhound lifted its massive body off the ground, facing the door and baring its fangs at whoever—or whatever—was about to come through.
As the ominous presence neared, Lucifer's emotions bubbled over, and he let loose a small chuckle.
The first thing they noticed were its giant white wings, elegantly etched into its back. They resembled the pair of black wings on Lucifer's back, yet everything about them felt both similar and distinct. The being had white wings in contrast to Lucifer's black, and its golden hair stood in stark contrast to Lucifer's fiery red locks. They were like walking contradictions of one another, embodying opposing forces that somehow complemented each other: the archangel Michael and his younger brother, the devil Lucifer.
"Brother!" Lucifer called out. "What took you so long? I've been waiting for a while now."
"..."
"Would you like some tea?"
"..."
"Oh... I almost forgot; my servants are indisposed at the moment. Do you happen to know anything about that?"
"..."
"Anyway, I'll have to hire some new staff."
"Always with the silly jokes," Archangel Michael finally spoke, mumbling something under his breath.
"Well, not everyone can go around brooding like you, Michael. Come on, I'm the one who's supposed to be the devil! The archangel Michael is supposed to be the good angel who goes around smiling; the living embodiment of all that is good."
"Lucifer, let's end this once and for all. It's time you grow up and see the error of your ways. For better or worse, you are my brother, and I do not wish to hurt you."
"That's a kind sentiment, brother... but it's far too late for that now."
"Are you sure about this, Lucifer?"
In response, Lucifer rose from his throne, rubbing his hand across the hellhound's black fur as he closed the distance between himself and his brother until they were face to face. From the palm of his hand, he manifested the Hellfire Blade—a weapon said to have been forged by God at the beginning of time. It was the very same blade that had led to his expulsion from Heaven, the very weapon that had forged all the stars in the universe.
Revealing his weapon could've only meant one thing, and Archangel Michael understood it all too well. Recognizing Lucifer's intent, Archangel Michael summoned his own weapon: the Sword of Michael. This blade was said to cut through space and time, rendering anything within its reach vulnerable.
Time seem to froze, leaving only the two brothers poised for a life-or-death battle. Their energies clashed, canceling each other out and creating a stillness that enveloped the cosmos. In the ensuing cataclysmic clash, Archangel Michael and the devil, Lucifer faced off, their strikes resonating with cosmic energy. Each blow unleashed shockwaves that rippled through the fabric of reality, warping time and space as stars flickered and galaxies trembled. The air crackled with divine fury, and the very essence of creation began to unravel, heralding an impending apocalypse. As light and darkness collided, the universe held its breath, caught in the balance between salvation and annihilation.
Though the battle raged on, it became evident that one of the brothers was outmatched in both skill and power. No matter what tricks he employed, Lucifer remained outclassed and was on the verge of defeat. Archangel Michael however, fought without mercy, brandishing his weapon as if it were an extension of himself. In a flash, the appointed time came; one of the brothers must die.
Archangel Michael stood above Lucifer, the Sword of Michael poised to end the millennia of torment the world had endured for the sake of his brother. But just as the appointed time came, he hesitated, and that hesitation cost him everything. The hellhound laid in wait; though it seemed no threat, its surprise attack delayed Michael for just a nanosecond.
That was all the time Lucifer needed. With ruthless precision, he struck down both Michael and the hellhound without hesitation. Hellfire pierced straight through the beast, delivering a fatal wound. Archangel Michael was fortunate not to be fatally injured, but he quickly retaliated, piercing through Lucifer's stomach and sending him crashing to the ground.
As Michael cradled his dying brother in his arms, he gave no thought to the hellhound suffering in the aftermath of their conflict. The beast lay there, dying a miserable death at the hands of the very person who had claimed to be family. In its final moments, the hellhound was consumed by regret. For it, the pain of betrayal hurt more than the gaping wound in its chest. And so he died, all for the sake of a feud between a family that wasn't his.
Yet, in the end, it didn't matter; neither to Lucifer nor to anyone else. To them, the hellhound was merely a pet, a pawn in a game far greater than it could have ever anticipated.