"In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth."
—Genesis 1:1
"How you have fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning! How you are cut down to the ground, you who weakened the nations!"
—Isaiah 14:12
"And the angels who did not keep their proper domain, but left their own abode, He has reserved in everlasting chains under darkness for the judgment of the great day."
—Jude 1:6
"There were giants in the earth in those days... when the sons of God came in unto the daughters of men, and they bore children to them..."
—Genesis 6:4
We have heard the tale of creation. We have read of Eden's innocence, of Lucifer's rebellion, and of the Flood that wiped the world clean.
But there is a part of the story they never told you.
A chapter buried in dust and fire.
A time before the deluge. Before Noah. Before the laws of Heaven were written in stone.
A time when angels, demons, nephilim, and mortals walked the earth together…
The World Before the World
In an age long before Noah's ark drifted across storm-wracked seas, three realms stood, intertwined yet bitterly divided.
Gehena — the scorched realm of the demons.
Once angels, they had turned from the Light and embraced the will of the Anti-God, an ancient, cursed being whose name was forbidden even in whispers. The demons were outcasts, reviled by the other races, hunted like animals, their heads taken as trophies, their skins stretched over gates like banners of victory.
Gehena itself was a wasteland, blackened earth, dead rivers, and burning skies. Vegetation was rare, dry, and cursed to never bloom. Massive, jagged trenches crisscrossed the land like ancient scars, and from these wounds the demons carved their homes.
The average demon was feeble compared to a human warrior. But their lords, beings of immense hatred and might, could raze empires with a whisper.
Paradis — the bountiful land of mortals and nephilim.
Lush fields, vibrant cities, and languages still young on the tongue. A realm reflecting Earth's beauty in the days just after the Tower of Babel began to rise.
Humans lived here, but they did not rule. The nephilim, offspring of angels and mortals, stood at the top of society, wielding divine power and ancient wisdom. They monopolized every resource, and split Paradis between two rulers:
Virgil — cold, ruthless, a tyrant dressed in red. His cruelty was legendary.
Dante — calm, fair, and merciful. Beloved by humans, feared by demons.
The twin brothers each held a piece of Excalibur, the holy sword once wielded by the Seraphim.
The Abyss — the realm of the fallen.
Neither cursed like Gehena nor blessed like Paradis, the Abyss was a twilight world of exile. Here dwelled the fallen angels, those who were cast out of Heaven but had not surrendered to the Anti-God. Though once revered, they were driven from Paradis by jealous nephilim who feared their power.
Beelzebub now ruled the fallen, for Lucifer, the Morning Star, had been cast into Gehena to rot among the damned.
The fallen walked in sorrow and silence, trapped between two wars.
…
The market in the city of Almah was lively with laughter and golden dust. Music from stringed instruments danced between sandstone buildings as people bartered, laughed, and shared stories. The air was hot, the sky clear, and the scent of roasted lamb and sweet figs lingered in the breeze.
Gerard stood awkwardly beneath a date tree at the edge of the square, trying to look taller by straightening his back and puffing his chest slightly.
"Come on, just say yes," he pleaded.
The girl facing him, a tall human girl with sun-kissed skin and a proud expression crossed her arms, unimpressed.
"You're... not really my type, Gerard," she said, her eyes flicking downward at his short frame. "You've got weird hair, you wear your shirt inside-out, and I think you tried to flirt with me by comparing my eyes to roasted nuts."
He blinked. "I meant that as a compliment! I love roasted nuts."
"Exactly," she replied. "Also... are those fangs real?"
He smiled wide. "Yep."
She winced. "That's not a good thing."
Gerard's confident grin wobbled, but he laughed it off. "You'll regret this one day. When I'm older, taller, and probably like... a king or a warrior or something."
"Sure," she said, walking away. "Good luck, fang boy."
…
Gerard slumped against the tree and muttered to himself. "A king, huh? Yeah right. I can't even lift Isabel's hammer without dislocating my shoulder…"
He kicked at a stone, brooding, then swatted at a fly buzzing near his ear.
"Shoo."
Another fly joined.
Then five.
Then a dozen.
"What the—?!"
Within seconds, he was engulfed in a buzzing, writhing storm of black wings and humming dread. His breath hitched, and his arms flailed but no matter how he swung, the swarm stayed locked around him like a cloud.
A voice echoed directly inside his skull deep, guttural, ancient.
"WELCOME, CHILD."
Gerard screamed. "W-WHO'S THERE?!"
The flies vanished in an instant.
So did the world.
…
The air was thick with ash. The sky was a swirling ocean of gray clouds and pulsing red cracks, like veins in the firmament. Strange monolithic stones jutted from the earth like teeth, and rivers of shadow cut through the dust.
Gerard stood trembling at the foot of a jagged throne made of skulls and black obsidian. Upon it sat a figure so tall he nearly scraped the sky above a lean, sinewy being draped in dark robes, his skin like onyx, his eyes glowing gold with slitted pupils.
And his head... crowned with thick, curling horns.
A grin spread across the being's sharp face.
"You are more... than they told you," the creature said, its voice rattling Gerard's bones. "The world will burn for what you are."
"W-Who are you?!" Gerard asked, heart pounding.
The being leaned forward, resting his clawed hand on the skull of his throne.
"I am Beelzebub," he said.
"Lord of the Abyss. King of the flies. And the one who is going to take your life."
Gerard blinked.
"Ten," Beelzebub said, rising from his throne with a voice like cracking bone. His smile revealed rows of jagged teeth, shining with sadistic glee.
"Ten what…?"
"Nine," the fallen angel continued, rolling his neck.
Gerard's stomach dropped.
"Wait, you're COUNTING?!"
"Eight."
He turned and bolted before he heard "Seven."
The Abyss was no place for a chase. It stretched endlessly in all directions, a barren wasteland of jagged obsidian, ash dunes, and charred ruin. There were no trees to duck behind, no walls to scale. Just flat, hopeless hell.
Far ahead, on a hill made of silver glass and crumbling light, stood a single pillar ancient and cracked with glyphs glowing faintly like an ember refusing to die.
The Sun Gate.
The only escape back to Paradis.
Beelzebub's voice echoed from the skies like thunder crawling through an old tomb.
"I'll give you a minute, little boy. Reach the gate, or I'll peel your soul from your skin."
Gerard didn't look back. He ran until his lungs burned.
Then he heard the buzzing.
At first it was faint like bees in the distance. But it swelled until it roared like a hurricane. He turned his head slightly.
A swarm of flies chased him like a living shadow, black and boiling. Then
BOOM!
The first fly bomb exploded behind him, knocking him off his feet and into a spiral of gravel and ash. He screamed, clutching his shoulder as it burned.
He pushed up and kept running.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
The bombs came faster now. They didn't kill him, no, they weren't meant to but every one tore his flesh, rang his bones, and reminded him that death wasn't the worst thing Beelzebub could offer.
Thirty seconds.
Twenty.
Ten.
Gerard lunged forward, dragging his injured leg, diving headfirst at the base of the Sun Gate.
He touched the glyphs.
Nothing happened.
"No—no—no no no—" he chanted in panic, slapping the stone. "Come on—please—"
A shadow fell over him. Cold and final.
Laughter.
Beelzebub stood behind him, grinning wide, his horns aglow with dark flame.
"Oh child… the gate's been dead for centuries. Didn't you know?" he crooned. "Your precious lord Virgil destroyed it himself when he sealed us here. He feared our return."
"You… sealed?" Gerard whispered, backing away on all fours.
"Oh, yes. A tragic betrayal, really. We, the fallen gave birth to your kind, you know?...The nephilim were our legacy, our gift to the world. And what did you do? You slaughtered us. Hunted us. Seized Paradis for yourselves."
"But… I'm just a human…"
Beelzebub's grin widened. "Is that what you still think?"
Gerard paused.
His spiky black hair. His fangs. The eye he always covered — slitted and red, like a beast's. The way others stared at him as if something about him was always a little… off.
No.
He wasn't human.
He never had been.
And somehow, the realization didn't bring despair.
It made him smile.
"I'm a nephilim?" he said to himself, rising on trembling feet. "This is it. This is my moment. I'm gonna unlock my power. I'm gonna beat you. Just like Lord Michael would. I'm gonna be a hero."
Beelzebub raised his massive axe.
Gerard never saw the blade move.
He only felt the earth leave him.
He looked down.
His left leg was gone.
The pain didn't come all at once. It started as a numb confusion. Then it rose like a wave of molten fire, pouring up through every nerve in his body until his vision blurred.
Before he could scream, Beelzebub brought his axe around again.
SHUNK.
His right arm followed.
Gerard hit the ground, rolling in the dust and agony, shrieking through gritted teeth.
"This… isn't… how it's supposed to go…" he whispered, blood pooling beneath him. "I'm… the hero… I'm supposed to be…"
Beelzebub stepped closer, eyes alight with madness.
"YESSSSSSSSSS!" he howled, stomping his boot down on Gerard's skull, pressing him into the dirt. "This is what I wanted to see, little mongrel. A nephilim brought low. A half-breed screaming like a worm."
His voice dripped with delight. "How else should I make you suffer? Hmm? Shall I fill your wounds with my flies and detonate them one by one? Or maybe burn you on a stake while your soul writhes free? Maybe I'll keep your head alive and feed your corpse to your kind in Paradis."
He started laughing a terrible, echoing, inhuman laugh as he leaned closer.
"You like that, boyyyyyy?" he sang gleefully. "This is just the beginning! This is what I'll do to the rest of your filthy race!"
Gerard's vision faded in and out.
His heart slowed.
His consciousness drifted like smoke.
All he could do… was hope.
All he could do… was wish.
All he could do… was pray.
"…Help… me…" he whispered.
CRACK-BOOOOOOOM!
A bolt of divine lightning tore the skies apart.
Beelzebub was flung backward by a blast of power so strong it sundered the obsidian hill in half. He skidded to a stop and hissed, eyes wide.
A figure stood before Gerard now glowing, tall, calm.
White wings spread like the banners of Heaven.
Golden hair fell down a proud back.
Silver armor radiated impossible light.
Gerard stared weakly from the dirt.
The man's back was to him. He couldn't see the face.
But the voice was gentle, lazy, and commanding all at once.
"Everything's going to be okay now."
Beelzebub snarled, but a cruel grin quickly replaced his surprise.
"Well, well… if it isn't the Archangel Michael himself," he spat. "Don't tell me you came to save a nephilim. You know your boss doesn't approve of their existence."
Michael sighed. "I know, right? The old man's always got a stick up his cloud. But hey…" he cracked his neck, stretching casually. "…for some reason, I got posted as this kid's guardian angel. And I'm way too tired to argue with paperwork."
Beelzebub raised his axe.
Michael raised his sword a weapon so massive it defied the word "sword," forged from miracle and judgment.
He swung once.
The earth split.
Light engulfed the battlefield in a flash brighter than a star.
Beelzebub vaporized.
Gerard blinked. "That's it?"
Michael glanced over his shoulder, giving him a look.
"No. That was just a fly clone."
"…A what?"
"Yeah," Michael said with a lazy shrug. "Beelzebub can make a clone out of any fly in existence. Annoying party trick. They're super weak."
"Super… weak…?" Gerard whispered as his eyes rolled back.
The world faded again.
Darkness.