I'm The Devil - Chapter 226

Chapter 226: Satan

In the ancient city of Ur, nestled amidst the fertile plains of Mesopotamia, there lived a man named Abram. He was known for his wisdom and integrity, respected by his peers and loved by his family. Abram was a descendant of Shem, the son of Noah, and his lineage could be traced back to the earliest days of human history.

But despite his noble heritage, Abram felt a longing in his heart—a longing for something more, something beyond the confines of his homeland. He often gazed out at the vast expanse of the desert that stretched beyond the city walls, wondering what lay beyond the horizon.

One night, as Abram lay beneath the star-filled sky, he heard a voice—a voice that spoke to him with a clarity and authority that he could not ignore. It was the voice of God, calling him to leave his homeland and journey to a land that God would show him—a land flowing with milk and honey, a land of promise and blessing.

Abram obeyed the voice of God, gathering his wife Sarai and his nephew Lot, along with all their possessions, and setting out into the unknown. They traveled across the desert sands, through rugged terrain and hostile territories, trusting in God’s guidance and provision.

As they journeyed, Abram’s faith grew stronger with each passing day. He built altars to the Lord, offering sacrifices of thanksgiving and praise. He made alliances with local rulers, establishing himself as a respected leader and patriarch.

But Abram’s faith would be tested when famine struck the land, forcing him to seek refuge in Egypt. Fearing for his life, Abram asked Sarai to pose as his sister, so that he might be spared. And indeed, Sarai’s beauty caught the eye of Pharaoh, who took her into his household.

But God intervened, sending plagues upon Pharaoh’s house and revealing the truth about Sarai. Pharaoh, realizing that he had been deceived, sent Abram and Sarai away, along with their possessions, and they returned to the land of Canaan.

Despite this setback, Abram’s faith remained steadfast. He continued to trust in God’s promises, knowing that he would one day inherit the land that had been promised to him. And indeed, God renewed his covenant with Abram, promising to make him the father of many nations and to bless him and his descendants for generations to come.

But Abram and Sarai remained childless, their old age a constant reminder of their barrenness. Yet Abram held onto hope, knowing that God’s promises were true and trustworthy.

And so, the stage was set for the next chapter in Abram’s journey—a chapter that would see him become Abraham, the father of a great nation, and the ancestor of countless generations to come. But that is a story for another time—a story of faith and redemption, of trials and triumphs, and of the enduring power of God’s promises.

In the depths of Hell, Lucifer lounged upon his throne, a smirk playing upon his lips as he surveyed the infernal landscape before him. Beside him sat his wives, Aphrodite, Amaterasu, Bast, and Hestia, each with a look of curiosity as they took in the sights and sounds of the underworld.

It was a rare occasion for the wives to visit Hell, and they were eager to explore its dark and twisted corridors. As they chatted amongst themselves, their voices filled with excitement and anticipation, a figure stirred in the shadows.

Emerging from the depths of Hell’s fiery landscape was Coriel, her form radiant even in the darkness of the underworld. She approached the thrones with a lazy grace, her wings trailing behind her as she settled onto her throne with a bored expression.

“Lucifer,” she drawled, her voice tinged with boredom. “What brings you to this dreary corner of Hell?”

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Just showing the wives around,” he replied, gesturing to Aphrodite, Amaterasu, Bast, and Hestia, who were eagerly taking in their surroundings.

Coriel glanced at the newcomers with mild interest before turning her attention back to Lucifer. “And what, pray tell, is the point of all this?” she asked, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Lucifer chuckled, unfazed by her attitude. “Just thought they might like to see where I spend most of my time,” he said casually.

Coriel rolled her eyes, leaning back in her throne with a sigh. “Well, I suppose I can’t fault you for trying to entertain your guests,” she said, her voice tinged with amusement. “But I have better things to do than wander aimlessly through Hell.”

Aphrodite giggled, her laughter like tinkling bells. “Oh, come on, Coriel,” she said, her tone teasing. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

Amaterasu nodded in agreement. “Yes, Coriel,” she said, her expression earnest. “You might find it quite enlightening.”

Coriel waved a dismissive hand. “I highly doubt that,” she muttered, her eyes drifting shut as she settled further into her throne.

Bast, her feline eyes gleaming with mischief, grinned wickedly. “Well, suit yourself,” she said, her voice low and sultry. “But you don’t know what you’re missing.”

Hestia, her flames flickering with excitement, clapped her hands together eagerly. “Well then, what are we waiting for?” she exclaimed. “Let’s explore!”

With a mischievous gleam in their eyes, Lucifer and his wives rose from their thrones, their laughter echoing through the halls of Hell as they set off on their adventure.

As they ventured deeper into the underworld, they encountered all manner of demonic creatures and twisted landscapes. They laughed and joked as they navigated the treacherous terrain, their spirits high and their hearts light.

Coriel, ever the serious and lazy one, trailed behind the group with a bored expression, her wings dragging lazily on the ground. She occasionally grumbled about the pointlessness of their journey, but Lucifer and the others paid her no mind, too caught up in their own excitement to care.

And as they laughed and joked into the night, their voices mingling with the screams of the damned, they knew that they were unstoppable.

In another realm of Hell, shrouded in perpetual darkness and engulfed in flames, sat Satanael, a figure of imposing stature and formidable presence. Formerly an angel of light, Satanael was the former Demon Lord of Wrath, and his fiery red hair and blazing red eyes mirrored the flames that danced around him, casting an eerie glow upon his angular features.

Perched upon his throne, carved from obsidian and adorned with the skulls of his enemies, Satanael exuded an aura of unbridled fury and unyielding power. His wings, once majestic and resplendent, were now twisted and charred, remnants of his former glory tainted by the darkness that consumed him.

As he brooded upon his throne, a deep growl rumbled from deep within his chest, a manifestation of the seething rage that burned within him. His mind echoed with thoughts of betrayal and vengeance, his once noble aspirations now twisted by the bitterness of his fall from grace.

Satanael’s gaze, filled with a simmering anger, surveyed the realm of torment that lay before him. Towering buildings loomed in the distance, each one a testament to the suffering of the damned souls that writhed within. The air was thick with the scent of burning sulfur and the screams of the tormented, a cacophony of agony that fueled his wrath.

His eyes narrowed as he beheld the massive throne that stood at the center of the infernal domain, a symbol of Lucifer’s dominance and authority. It was a reminder of his own ambitions, his desire to claim the seat of power for himself, only to be thwarted by his brother’s treachery.

Memories of their conflict surged to the forefront of Satanael’s mind, the bitter rivalry that had once defined their relationship now fueling his resentment. He remembered the moment when Lucifer had cast him down, stripping him of his position as Demon Lord of Wrath and banishing him to the depths of Hell.

But Satanael was not one to accept defeat lightly. His pride wounded and his fury ignited, he harbored a burning desire for retribution, a thirst for vengeance that consumed his every thought.

As he sat upon his throne, surrounded by the flames of his domain, Satanael plotted his return to power. He knew that the time would come when he would rise again, when he would cast down his brother and claim the throne of Hell for himself.

But for now, he bided his time, his anger smoldering like embers beneath the surface, waiting for the moment when he would unleash the full fury of his wrath upon all who dared to oppose him.

And as the flames danced around him, casting flickering shadows upon the walls of his domain, Satanael’s eyes burned with a fiery resolve, a testament to the indomitable spirit of one who would stop at nothing to achieve his ultimate goal: to reign supreme as the true lord of Hell.

“It won’t be long anymore, soon, I will make a comeback”