Chapter 1
An angel renounced, the darkest wound.
His eyes widened as the revelation hit him. He tried desperately to speak, but found he could not. The
judgments of God could not be questioned.
Did God not know that he had not been a part of this? Did he care? Oni Shin felt weak, hurt, that his creator,
whom he served with a loyalty without end, would place him in the midst of those punished for acts that he held no place in.
The severity of what was happening hadn't yet occurred to him. He felt with all of his soul that there was still hope that this could be prevented.
God raised his hand. Oni Shin knew what was going to happen, as he had been taught of it. The very same event took place when Lucifer was cast down for his transgression.
He tried with all his might to scream out his innocence, but he could not. God began to speak words that could not be understood and Oni Shin felt his soul being gripped.
Both with God's power and his own indefinable feelings. A flash of brilliant light. They were gone, scattered in random locations across the great Earth.
He kneeled, just as he had been a moment before at the foot of the holy throne. He kneeled naked, in the mud, with rain pouring down upon his bare flesh.
Overwhelmed with grief and confusion, he tried in vain to grasp the series of events that had unfolded so quickly. The sky was black, lightning streaked across the sky.
After what seemed like hours, he finally decided to move. Lightning struck and Oni Shin looked up in curiosity. The lightning had
stricken an iron cross on top of an old abandoned church that lie before him.
He stared in agony at the old church. He reminisced on the now lost days of his former grace and glory. He cried. For the first time in all of his existence, silent tears ran helplessly down his ivory cheeks.
A moment later, something caught his eye. He looked up, quivering with pain, he looked straight towards an
oxidized sign on the main doors of the church.
The sign read: HAVE FAITH IN GOD'S MERCY.
Something stirred within him, a vortex churned within his subconscious. He couldn't take it anymore. The hypocrisy of it all pierced him like so many thousand poison arrows.
The Earth beneath him began to tremble with the gravity of his rage. His eyes narrowed and turned solid black, small onyx black horns pierced the flesh of his forehead, reaching directly upward toward the black, night sky.
Large, powerful devil's wings burst from his upper back and he screamed a dark battle cry that no man could hear without losing their feeble sanity.
Filled with the purest agony, betrayal, fury. It was a horrid sound and yet beautiful in every aspect, to those who could understand the slightest portion of his emotion.
He was now a perfect paradox: a devil with an angel's heart and soul. He looked once again at the abandoned church, now seeing it with new
intentions in mind. He spoke, his voice trembling with rage,
"How fitting that one who has been abandoned by God should dwell in God's own house, that has been abandoned by his own people."
With that, he walked toward the church, "And the mere act of my doing so will serve as a testament to my vengeance." He walked into the church, ripping the sign off of the door as he passed.
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