Devil's Prospective
Chapter 2 -The Question That Should Not Exist
The wind changed before the sun rose.
Naen felt it long before the sky brightened. The battlefield behind him had gone quiet, but the world itself still moved like a wounded animal. Somewhere far away, armies gathered again. Somewhere prayers were whispered to the light that had burned this land.
He walked alone through the valley of ash.
Each step crushed feathers, bone fragments, and broken weapons into dust. Once, this place had been alive with screams and fury. Now it felt like a grave that stretched across the horizon.
Naen wondered something strange.
Why do the dead always look peaceful when the living feel so restless?
He stopped beside a cracked pillar that once held the banner of Heaven. The symbol of the Light was burned into the stone, though the edges had melted from the battle.
He ran a finger across it.
Warm.
Even after the destruction, the mark of the Light still carried heat.
Naen laughed quietly.
"Of course," he murmured. "Even after everything… you still refuse to fade."
The sky slowly turned gray. Morning was coming.
But Naen did not welcome it.
Light had never meant safety to him.
A long time ago, before the wars became endless, Naen had asked a question.
It happened in a cavern beneath the lower realm, where demon warriors gathered after battle. Firelight flickered against the rough stone walls, and the air smelled of iron and smoke.
Demons were not philosophers. They were survivors.
Yet that night, something unusual happened.
A young demon sat beside Naen, sharpening a blade. "Why do you stare at the sky so much?" he asked.
Naen looked up through the crack in the cavern roof where distant stars could barely be seen.
"I'm wondering something," he said.
The demon snorted. "That's a dangerous habit."
Naen ignored the warning.
"If the Light is truly pure," he asked slowly, "why does it need to destroy us?"
The blade stopped moving.
The other demons nearby fell silent.
One of the older warriors turned toward him, eyes narrowing.
"Careful," the veteran growled. "Questions like that get noticed."
Naen tilted his head.
"By who?"
The answer came from above.
"By us."
The cavern exploded with white fire.
Angels descended through the broken ceiling like falling stars. Their armor shone so brightly it hurt to look at them.
The demons roared and charged.
Battle erupted instantly.
Steel clashed against divine light, claws ripped through armor, wings beat thunder into the air. It was chaos—violent, brutal, familiar.
But Naen noticed something strange.
The angels didn't look angry.
They looked… calm.
One of them stepped forward, a tall figure with a blade that glowed like the sun.
"Naen," the angel said.
Naen froze.
"You know my name?"
"We know every voice that questions the order."
Naen felt something cold slide down his spine.
The angel's gaze was not hateful.
It was worse.
It was disappointed.
"You asked why the Light destroys darkness," the angel continued.
Naen tightened his grip on his sword.
"Yes."
The angel lifted his weapon.
"Because darkness asks why."
Then the slaughter began.
Naen returned to the present with a slow breath.
That night had been the first time Heaven came for him directly.
Not because he attacked them.
Not because he betrayed them.
But because he asked a question.
He had survived that attack, barely. Many others had not.
And after that night, something changed.
The demons began listening to him.
Not because he was the strongest.
Because he was the only one brave-or foolish-enough to ask the things they all secretly wondered.
Naen looked toward the rising sun.
It crept over the mountains like a blade being drawn.
"Funny," he said to the empty valley.
"You call it light."
"But all I see… is another fire."
He kept walking.
Ahead of him lay more war. More questions. More answers the world refused to hear.
And somewhere deep inside him, a quiet realization had begun to grow.
Maybe the reason the Light hated his questions…
was because they had no answers.