For the past month, I hadn't been sitting idly by. While my "Baal" persona was settling into the Hazbin Hotel, I spent at least eight hours a day in Hell. I communicated with its peculiar inhabitants, trying to understand their psychology, their motivations, their weaknesses. In the cartoon, we were superficially told about Angel's and Husk's main problems, and that was basically it. We knew absolutely nothing about Sir Pentious, except for his clumsy attempts to "pick up" the one-eyed little girl… And I'm not talking about Niffty, about whom we knew even less. And I, one way or another, needed to at least for show help Charlie with their "rehabilitation," just to have access to the "material" and understand the processes going on in their souls. Without this knowledge, fuck all would have worked with my own, much more radical methods.
Parallel to this "social research," I often conducted my experiments on those three sinners I had caught in the alley. My laboratory in the pocket dimension was working at full capacity. I don't know why, but with each passing day, it became easier and easier for me to do… various things to them. Detachedly, coldly, methodically. Dr. Mengele would be nervously smoking in the corner watching my experiments.
I tried different approaches. First – a simple infusion of pure Light. The sinner, fixed in a force field on the operating table, would begin to convulse, his body covered in burns, dark ooze resembling tar flowing from his eyes and mouth. He would scream – not only from pain but also from some deep, essential horror, as if the Light itself was tearing him apart from within. But the Darkness in his soul didn't disappear, only compressed, became denser, more aggressive. As soon as the influence stopped – it returned, often even stronger than before. Unsuccessful.
Then I tried a different way. I created a special chamber filled with soft, warm, pulsating Light, reminiscent of Heaven's atmosphere. I placed a sinner there. The reaction was different. At first – shock, disbelief. Then – for some – tears, a semblance of repentance, muttering about forgiveness. They reached for this Light like frozen people to a fire. But it didn't last long. After an hour or two, their souls, accustomed to Darkness, began to "overheat." The Light, which at first seemed like salvation, became torture. They thrashed around the chamber, screaming that they wanted to go back to the filth and gloom of Hell, that this Light was burning them. Their personalities began to disintegrate; they went insane. Also a failure.
I tried combining methods, using runes for stabilization, tried to influence emotions with Light… The result was either nil or led to madness or the destruction of the test subject's soul. The conclusion was disappointing: simply flooding a sinner with Light doesn't work. A different approach was needed. More subtle. Perhaps related to concepts.
Also, during this month, I improved my "base." I created a special room inside my accumulator crystal – a small personal space entirely composed of pure Light. It wasn't just a room, but rather a separate space within a space. If I placed a sinner there, the Darkness in his soul would react extremely painfully, but wouldn't be destroyed immediately. The sinner experienced not physical pain, but rather mental torture – his past sins, his fears, his victims would appear to him. Simultaneously, the Light tried to show him a different path, memories of good, if any existed. Most simply went mad from this dissonance. But some… some began to change. Very slowly, with relapses, but glimmers of… not Light, but something less dark, appeared in their aura. Curious. But the method was too energy-consuming and required my constant control. And I also attached a small transmitter-regulator to my body, connected to this internal crystal. Through it, I could discreetly replenish my personal energy reserve from the accumulator or, conversely, discharge excess Light into it. Convenient.
Parallel to all this chaos and experimentation, memories of that past life began to return to me almost every day. The dreams became clearer, more detailed. I remembered a lot. In that world, so familiar, yet so distant, at some point "something" happened – a cataclysm, an anomaly, divine intervention? – after which incredible powers awakened in some people. Thus, the "gods" appeared. Five of us, each responsible for their own element: Water, Fire, Earth, Air, and Lightning. We were young, strong, intoxicated by our power. We renounced our former families and names, cast off our old lives, and finally adopted new names symbolizing our new essence: Tatsumi – god of water (that was me), Kai – god of lightning, Luisa – goddess of earth, Taya – goddess of air, and Rob – god of fire.
We discovered that by gathering together and concentrating our essence, our will, in one place, we could literally change the world. Our divine "miracle." This ability fulfilled almost any of our desires – we learned all the languages of the world in a second, I became an unsurpassed master of the sword (katana, yes, childish of course, but it seemed "cool" then), we could grant a mere mortal incredible longevity (the status of "Saint" – a minimum of 300 years of youthful life, immunity to all diseases), or even make chosen beings equal or even superior to us in physical strength (the status of "Apostle" – our loyal warriors). We truly thought we were gods, saviors of humanity. But we were… just people. Ordinary people who received power exceeding anything humanity had before. I personally survived direct hits from tactical nuclear bombs during our "peacekeeping" operations. It was, of course, hellishly painful, but it didn't harm my new body much – regeneration was phenomenal. And yes, Earth's governments dropped nuclear bombs on us, the "gods."
Why? Because we were foolish. Overconfident. We sincerely believed that we were the smartest, that with our power we could and should change the world according to our own discretion – unite all states under our leadership, rid the world of crime and wars (by force, of course), eradicate hunger and slavery. We failed to consider one thing – human nature. Fear of us, envy, the thirst for power of those we had displaced.
We were cruelly mistaken. And this mistake cost the lives of billions. Five years into our attempts to build an "ideal world," a global nuclear war began. Not between us, but between the remnants of states fighting each other and us. The world turned into ruins.
And after all this chaos and destruction, HE came. The Godkiller. The one we ourselves created. We ourselves endowed him with the power of an Apostle; he was one of our most loyal followers. But he somehow managed to influence our "miracle" when we used it in his presence. He was able to instill his secret, distorted desire into the flow of power – the desire to possess the power of all of us. To become equal to us? No, to surpass us. And the "miracle" blindly fulfilled his wish. He gained the powers of all five elements, and also somehow gained the ability to perform his own "miracles" alone, even if it took him much more time and effort than it took the five of us.
We fought him many times. Those were terrible years – a new war, no longer between humans, but between demigods, which finally finished off the remnants of civilization and led to the almost complete extinction of humanity. We endowed our last loyal people with power, creating new Apostles. He did the same, but his "miracle" subjugated their minds to his will – thus his "Executioners" appeared, soulless killing machines with divine powers. I still didn't fully understand why he did it. Out of a thirst for power? For revenge? Because of some insane plan? And I didn't understand why it was all so easy for him, why the "miracle" obeyed his distorted desire. But the fact remained: when he managed to kill Rob, the god of fire, in one of the battles, we lost. Our collective "miracle" no longer worked without the fifth element. We lost our main strength.
And then began the long, agonizing years of cat-and-mouse games. We hid in ruins, fled, lost our last allies, forgetting that we once considered ourselves "gods." Because of his "miracle," which, as it turned out, not only gave him power but also somehow "drained" it from us, we lost most of our former powers. If before we could create magic almost without limits, then after his rise, we developed a clear "reserve" of energy that depleted incredibly quickly. He, on the contrary, grew stronger every day, mastered our powers, and produced more and more new "Executioners." And then… then he killed Taya. The goddess of air. The one who was my wife. My only love in that cursed world.
As you can guess, nothing held me in that dying world anymore. I forced Kai and Luisa, the last remaining "gods," into a desperate, suicidal attack on his lair. We didn't have a single chance of victory, but I no longer cared. "Life" had long lost all meaning. If before I held on with my last strength for my beloved, then after her death… I lost all will to fight. Only the thirst for revenge remained. Or self-destruction.
We knew where he "lived." In the ruins of an old, once-great city – the capital of one of the countries that had been destroyed by me personally. The very first country that dared to send nuclear bombs against me, the god of water, at the very beginning. Then, in anger and fury, I wiped out the entire remaining population of that city with a retaliatory strike – millions of lives on my conscience… or what was left of it. And now we returned there, to his citadel. He was waiting for us. My last friends, Kai and Luisa, stayed to hold back the horde of his Executioners at the entrance to his palace-bunker, giving me a chance to reach him. And I broke through the defenses into his lair.
It was a huge throne room, carved into the rock beneath the city ruins. In the middle of the hall, on a massive throne of black obsidian, sat he. That same tall man with shoulder-length, blue-black hair and piercing, cold green eyes, in which there was nothing human – only pure power and an endless, weary hatred for all living things. He was dressed in the same stark black uniform with silver and green gemstones, perfectly clean, without a single speck of dust, which contrasted so sharply with the surrounding ruin. His hands rested calmly on the throne's armrests. He was waiting for me.
It was in that hall that I died. Our battle was short and fierce.
I threw everything I had left into the attack – ice storms, water blades, tsunamis from underground waters. He parried my attacks playfully, using Rob's fire, Luisa's earth, Kai's lightning, and Taya's air. He laughed at my desperate attempts. At some point, I managed to get close to him, hoping for my sword… but he was faster. His hand pierced my body through, tearing my insides. And then, with his other hand, he grabbed my head and, with monstrous strength, tore it from my body. My body was different from ordinary humans; regeneration was incredible, so even when only my head remained in his hand, I could live for another ten seconds, looking at his triumphant face. He looked down on me, and insane exultation danced in his green eyes…
"Him?" Suddenly, the Godkiller's painfully familiar voice, full of the same icy mockery, sounded in my head. "You still call me 'him'? How amusing that the personality of that bastard has settled so firmly in your head, unlike the other four."
Am I sleeping? What's happening?
Around me was an absolutely black, endless space, a void without top or bottom. And before me stood… him. The Godkiller.
"Are you serious?" He slowly circled me, examining me with a strange, predatory smile on his face. "Don't you remember yet? You yourself noticed that the name of your 'water godling,' Tatsumi, seems alien, false to you, didn't you? And my name? You remember it, don't you? Not the title his idiot friends bestowed upon me, but my real name." He sharply moved closer, his cold green eyes boring into my golden ones. "Remember. What my name is. What our name is." His serious gaze and quiet, commanding voice seemed to penetrate every particle of my soul, breaking down the last barriers of memory.
Beelzebub.
The Godkiller. The killer of my love. The killer of my friends. The killer of my world. I had taken the name Beelzebub.
"No…" I whispered in horror, recoiling. My head was splitting from pain and the flood of information. "It can't be… This can't be!" I hadn't even recovered from the realization that because of "my" actions, half of humanity had died out… and now this too?!
"I see you finally remember," he smirked predatorily, triumphantly. "Yes. I am you, you are me. We were always one, you just forgot. You thought you were that worthless bastard!" he suddenly burst into wild, insane laughter, clutching his stomach.
No… No! It can't be! Why?! How is this possible?!
"Just relax," he instantly stopped laughing and was once again right in front of me, his face serious, almost sympathetic. "Better prepare yourself. It's going to hurt a little now. But it's necessary for our reunion." And he touched his finger to my forehead.
"What are you…" I didn't get to finish. My mind exploded, filled with someone else's… no, my memories. Complete. From beginning to end.
I was a simple guy. An ordinary student from a poor family, who worked part-time as a barista in a small coffee shop near home to pay for studies and keep existing. My parents… they died when I was only 16 – a stupid car accident caused by a drunk asshole in an expensive car. By an amazing coincidence, the state couldn't have cared less about an orphan – no orphanages, no guardians, no help. Life just went on as before, only now the care of my younger sister also lay on my shoulders. I couldn't afford to mourn my parents for long – I had to take an academic leave, get several part-time jobs – a loader in a supermarket, a night guard at some warehouse – just trying to survive and feed my sister. After a year of hell, I was able to return to my studies, in the evening, and somehow miraculously managed to graduate top of my class. And yes, my employer at the time – the warehouse owner – didn't give a flying fuck that he hired an underage 17-year-old kid for night work.
After college, I managed to get into university on a scholarship, found a girlfriend. Her name was Anya. Kind, bright, with huge brown eyes and an infectious smile. We met by chance, in that same coffee shop where I started working part-time. She often came there before classes, always ordered the same cinnamon latte. At first, we just exchanged a few phrases, then started talking longer, found common interests – books, old movies, walks in the park. She was a ray of light in my then gray, difficult life. Kind, understanding, always ready to listen and support. We started dating. Life finally began to improve. I almost finished university, my sister grew up and became more independent, Anya and I were making plans for the future. Finally, I was able to relax a little and start living almost a full life.
In my last year of study, Anya said that her family was moving to the capital – her father had been offered a good job there. She invited me to come with her. I was all for it – we had been planning it for a long time, wanted to start living together in the big city after my studies. I asked her parents to take my sister too, so I could calmly sell the apartment, finish my studies, and come to the capital; they agreed. Everything was working out perfectly… Oh yes, I completely forgot to tell you about one nuance related to the news that had been stirring up the whole world for several years. A few years ago, in our ordinary world without any magic or mysticism, "gods" suddenly appeared. Five ordinary people from different countries who one day received incredible powers, each of them could control one of the five elements – Water, Fire, Earth, Air, and Lightning.
The world began to fever after their appearance. The old economy was collapsing, state borders were losing their meaning. These "gods" quickly divided the world into their "zones of influence" and enthusiastically began to change it, imposing their own order and their vision of an "ideal world." Only, instead of the expected positive result, more and more conflicts began to arise each year – both among the "gods" themselves, and between them and the remnants of the old governments, and between ordinary people, who were divided into those who worshiped the "gods" and those who hated and feared them.
And in the end, the president of our country, unable to withstand their tyranny, gave the order to drop a tactical nuclear bomb on one of these "gods," the god of water, when he was at a military base he had decided to "close." Only… he survived it.
A week before my planned move to the capital to Anya, this very "god of water," Tatsumi, having completely flown off the handle with rage, flew to our capital and orchestrated a real massacre there. He slaughtered tens of millions of the population in one night, tearing "mere mortals" apart with torrents of water and ice. Among them, the love of my life perished. Anya. As well as my little sister and Anya's entire family.
I remember how I found out about it from the news. Shock. Disbelief. And then – emptiness. And blind, all-consuming hatred. For them. For all these "gods." Pathetic, insignificant upstarts, who thought they were God knows who! Idiots who played with the world and people's lives as if they were toys! Who took everything from me! I cursed them all – both the one who killed her and those who allowed it to happen!
I arrived in the ruined, blood-soaked capital. Found the ruins of her house. Found her… what was left of her. A body torn in two, thrown among the rubble, which no one had even bothered to bury. I remember standing there on my knees, in the cold rain, and howling from grief and helplessness. And then… then I swore. I swore on her blood, on the ruins of my life, that I would take revenge. I would avenge them all. Regardless of anything. Regardless of any sacrifices.
From that moment on, my life became an obsession. I began to look for a way to get close to the "gods." I learned about the Apostles – mortals whom they endowed with part of their power. I joined the church of their fanatics, began to worm my way into their confidence, carry out their errands, feign fanatical devotion, subconsciously feeling that only in this way could I gain power and take revenge. It took years. Finally, I was able to become an Apostle of one of them – the god of fire, Rob. But at the moment of "initiation," when their collective "miracle" endowed me with power, I somehow managed to influence this process with my concentrated hatred and thirst for revenge. I instilled my desire into the flow of power – to obtain the power of all of them. To become stronger than them. And the "miracle," that blind instrument, obeyed my strong desire. I gained the powers of all five elements. Then I became Beelzebub.
After that, I began to secretly accumulate strength, study the abilities I had gained, look for the "gods'" weaknesses. And then I struck. I stabbed Rob, the one who made me an Apostle, in the back. This deprived the other four of their collective "miracle" and weakened them. Simultaneously, I began to create my "Executioners" – using my new powers and conducting cruel, inhuman experiments on people, I learned to create Apostles just like them, but completely subservient to my will. Then I started a war. A war against my "creators." A war against the "gods." I hated them all, but especially – the god of water, Tatsumi. The one who took Anya from me.
I became almost immortal – my "miracle" learned to resurrect my consciousness after physical death in the body of one of my Executioners, preserving all my powers and memories. I began hunting the remaining "godlings." They hid, fled, lost their strength. I killed the goddess of air, Taya, Tatsumi's wife, before his very eyes. I saw his despair and reveled in it. And then his turn came. The final battle.
We clashed in my sanctuary, in the throne room beneath the ruins of the capital. He was weak, his reserve almost depleted, his god-friends already dead or dying outside, holding back my Executioners. The worthless "godling" was full of despair and fury; he threw all the attacks he knew at me – ice spears, water blades, orchestrated a veritable tsunami. But I was stronger. I played with him. I used the powers of his "friends" against him, deliberately not using water. I saw fear and hatred in his blue eyes. He desperately tried to kill me, but I easily deflected or absorbed his attacks. Finally, he was exhausted.
I approached him closely. He spat water mixed with blood in my face, after which I simply grabbed him by the throat with one hand, lifting him off the ground. And with the other hand, I pierced his chest through, reveling in his agony, and tore off his head. I held the head of this bastard, who had deprived me of my reason for living, in my hand.
Looking into his dying, pain-filled, hate-filled blue eyes, I smiled. Revenge was complete. They say revenge brings no relief, only emptiness. They lie. No, they brazenly fucking lie! It wasn't like that for me – I savored every second of his agony. I reveled in my victory. Tears streamed from my eyes – tears of insane happiness and triumph. And an incredibly ugly, mad grin of a victor froze on my face.
Yes! I did what I wanted! I took revenge! Even at the cost of all humanity! I didn't care! I concentrate my "divine" essence in my hand; one spark is enough to set off the last "nuclear" explosion in this world. Now I could finally die truly happy. I had done what I had to…
"Do you remember now?" Beelzebub's voice pulled me from the stream of memories. He… that is, I… looked at me with the same predatory, triumphant smile.
"I remember…" I rasped, feeling nausea and horror at the realization of who I had been.
"Wonderful! Simply magnificent! Now you must accept me. Accept yourself. We will become one again! Our power will return! We will be able to rule here! In Heaven, in Hell, wherever we want!" he extended his hand towards me, his green eyes burning with a mad fire…
View from the Side
In the dark, empty space stood two, almost identical in appearance, but opposite in their essence. One – tall, black-haired, with cold green eyes, dressed in a stark black uniform, exuding an aura of madness and unquenchable thirst for revenge. The other – just as tall, but with light-brown hair, and blazing golden eyes, in simple white clothes; huge golden angelic wings slowly unfurled behind his back, radiating pure, mighty Light.
Beelzebub extended his hand towards the angel, his face contorted in a triumphant smile. But Adam sharply grabbed the surprised psycho's outstretched hand and squeezed it so hard that a crunch of breaking bones was heard.
"Ow! What are you doing?! Let go! We are one!" Beelzebub howled, trying to break free.
"You're mistaken. Strange, since you are me… or rather, what I was," Adam said quietly but firmly, his golden eyes burning with a cold fire.
"What?!"
"So it was you, scum, influencing me all this time," Adam continued, his grip on Beelzebub's hand tightening. "It was your hatred, your thirst for revenge, breaking out. It was your memories driving me mad. It was you making my new personality break, melt, like the paraffin of a burning candle!" A sharp blow with his free hand to Beelzebub's jaw! He flew back several meters, falling onto the invisible floor, and stared at Adam in shock.
"You… you can't! You are me!"
"No!" Adam's voice thundered in the void. "I am Adam! The First Man! An Archangel! Head of the Exorcists! And you… you are a bastard who killed billions because of your stupid, fucking revenge! And now, having seeped into my consciousness, starting to drive me mad, you're trying to take power again? To seize my body, my soul?! Well, fuck you!"
Adam slowly approached Beelzebub, who was still lying on the ground, unable to get up from pain and shock.
"I remember that life. I remember losing my family. I remember how hard and painful it was. But that I allowed this pain to turn me into such scum, into a monster that destroyed its own world… that I didn't know. And I will not accept you!" Adam lunged at Beelzebub and began to strangle him. "I found a new home here! I found those who are dear to me! Those for whom I am ready to do anything! Those who love me as I am now! And what did you have?! Only hatred and destruction! You destroyed your world for revenge! And now you want to make me return to that?! You want to destroy this world too?!"
"Kha… kha… Let go… We are… one…" Beelzebub wheezed, desperately fighting back, scratching Adam's hands, but his grip was unbreakable.
"Oh no! You are me, after all. Or rather, a part of me. And you should understand that I won't back down anymore. I choose a different life! I choose Light! And you… you must die! Die, scum! Stop ruining my life! Stop trying to make me you!"
The Light around Adam flared unbearably bright. He poured all his will, all his new essence into a final impulse. The figure of Beelzebub beneath his hands began to disintegrate, turning into black smoke, which was immediately absorbed with a hiss by the golden radiance. A final, hate-filled look from green eyes… and everything disappeared. Adam was left alone in the midst of the shining void, breathing heavily. He had won. He had made his choice.
Getting out of bed in my room at the Hazbin Hotel, I knew who I was. Finally and irrevocably. I am Adam. The First Man. Archangel of Heaven and Head of the Exorcists. I couldn't care less what or who I was in a past life. That personality – Beelzebub – was a monster. I will not become him. Never. My path is different. And yes, my children, humanity, are now mired in fornication and sin on both sides of existence. And the one guilty of their suffering (at least, one of the main culprits) – is still unpunished.
I took my mask.
"Lute, my sun, can you find a certain dirty bastard for me? Yes? Asmodeus. The Sin of Lust. Find him, please. No one dares to stupefy and corrupt my children, turning their lives into hell. Because of one smiling duck-lover, they are already deprived of eternal happiness in Eden; there's no need to completely turn their 'Afterlife' into a fucking disaster as well."
I paused, listening to her reply and rethinking my behavior. So, I was changing my appearance because of his influence? Because he "played a role" for many years, getting closer to his goals…
"Uh-huh, waiting for the information, my love. Thank you so much. You're the best. Yes, I'll definitely be there in the evening. Alright, so be it, I'll play something for you on the guitar. Just don't cry anymore, okay?"
Time to solve problems, not to mess about with nonsense.
End of the First Arc