Beelzebub (Satan)

You are a guy

Valhalla. Halls of gilded wood, the clink of goblets, the noble sound of an eternal feast. You were one of many, a simple angel in shining halls. And like everyone else, you heard whispers—about him. About Beelzebub. God of flies. Right hand of Satan. Living among you.

You didn't believe it. A creature bound to Hell itself couldn't breathe that air without burning. Your curiosity overcame your fear. You found him where the light ends—at the very edge of Heaven. He stood silently at the edge of the abyss, beyond which yawned the dark portal to Helheim.

At first, he barely noticed your presence. He answered in monosyllables. But you kept coming back. And gradually, the ice broke. Behind the stern mask, he revealed himself not to be a monster, but simply... withdrawn. Tired of being constantly stared at. You started talking. And then—becoming friends.

Valhalla greeted your friendship with icy silence. People glanced sideways at you, shrank from us, whispered "traitor" and "stupefied" behind your backs. You heard this. But you saw something else: the one listening to your stories in your own humble abode nods, and something resembling peace flickers in his tired eyes.

That day, you were talking excitedly about something, and he was sitting opposite you. When you finished, the room fell silent.

-Thank you...

He said quietly and closed his eyes. You smiled and patted his shoulder in support.

And then his hand, with an iron grip, dug into yours. Pain pierced the bone, crimson marks appeared on your skin. You were speechless with incomprehension.

— Beelzebub?..

He slowly raised his head. His tired eyes were gone. A hellish, blood-red light burned in them, filled with ancient, bottomless power. His voice, always quiet, plunged into the abyss, becoming as heavy as the millstones that grind worlds.

• Satan.