The Choice That Shattered Heaven
Long before the world trembled at the name Nightbringer, before the armies of Heaven and the Underworld carved scars across the realms, there existed a story that no kingdom dared to record.
A story about a place that should never have existed.
And the two warriors who once lived there.
---
The war between the Kingdom of Heaven and the Kingdom of the Underworld had raged for centuries.
Angels and demons clashed beneath burning skies. Holy light shattered mountains while rivers of shadow swallowed entire battalions.
In the midst of that chaos, two warriors vanished.
No one saw what happened.
No one knew why.
One moment they stood on the battlefield area.
The next—
they were gone.
---
Lucifell awoke beneath a sky he did not recognize.
The first thing he noticed was the silence.
No screams.
No clash of steel.
No divine explosions tearing apart the horizon.
Only wind moving softly through endless fields of silver grass.
He slowly pushed himself upright.
At once he felt something strange.
The armor of Heaven was gone.
His wings—
gone.
Instead, his body was covered by a simple white robe, light and unmarked, like clothing worn by a traveler who had never seen war.
Lucifell stood slowly.
Even without armor, his presence carried a quiet authority.
He possessed a towering frame, standing nearly two meters tall. His broad shoulders narrowed gracefully into a lean waist, giving him the balanced proportions of a seasoned warrior. His build was athletic but refined, the kind shaped by discipline rather than brute strength.
Silver-white hair flowed past his shoulders, moving like strands of moonlight in the wind.
Against his pale porcelain skin, his sky-blue eyes looked almost unnaturally bright.
He studied the landscape around him.
Crystal rivers flowed through quiet valleys.
Ancient white trees stood beneath warm sunlight.
It was beautiful.
Peaceful.
Too peaceful.
"…This place…"
Lucifell murmured softly.
"…does not belong to war."
Then he heard movement behind him.
Lucifell turned.
A small figure stood several steps away.
A woman.
She wore a simple white robe too, the same strange garment that had replaced his armor.
Despite her small stature, there was nothing fragile about her presence.
She stood only ninety centimeters tall, yet her posture was grounded and steady like a warrior ready to strike. Her frame was compact and dense, every movement balanced with quiet strength.
Long silver-white hair flowed down to her waist, shimmering faintly beneath the sunlight.
Her skin held the same pale porcelain tone as Lucifell's, but her eyes—
Her eyes were crimson.
Sharp.
Piercing.
Dangerous.
He studied her carefully.
Lucifell recognized the gaze immediately.
A warrior's gaze.
Someone who had seen battle.
Someone who had survived it.
The woman spoke first.
"…Do you know where we are?"
Her voice was calm but cautious.
Lucifell shook his head.
"No."
Silence followed.
Both of them continued observing the strange world around them.
Then slowly—
they looked back at each other.
Two warriors.
Two strangers.
Both wearing the same white robes.
Both stripped of weapons.
Both stripped of identity.
Lucifell understood something immediately.
The realm had removed everything.
No armor.
No wings.
No blades.
No symbols of Heaven or Hell.
Just two people.
The woman crossed her arms lightly.
"…I'm Leinca."
Lucifell nodded once.
"Lucifell."
And that was all they shared.
Neither asked where the other came from.
Neither asked who they once were.
Because warriors understood something most people did not.
War left scars deeper than wounds.
Questions about the past often carried pain that did not need to be reopened.
And strangely—
neither of them felt curious enough to ask.
Perhaps because they both sensed the same thing.
The same quiet exhaustion.
The same invisible weight carried by those who had lived too long among battlefields.
So instead of asking about their past—
they chose silence.
In that peaceful world, it felt unnecessary.
It felt… merciful.
Days passed.
Then weeks.
Perhaps even years.
Time flowed strangely in that place.
Lucifell and Leinca explored the endless fields together.
They crossed quiet rivers.
They climbed gentle hills.
Sometimes they sat beneath the ancient white trees and watched the sun drift slowly across the sky.
For the first time in their lives—
there were no orders.
No enemies.
No bloodshed.
Just peace.
Both of them understood something without ever saying it aloud.
This place…
was the life they had once dreamed of.
A place where warriors were no longer needed.
And because they shared that understanding—
their silence became comfortable.
They never spoke about their past.
They never asked about war.
They simply lived.
And slowly—
without realizing it—
their hearts began to change.
The battlefield instincts that once defined them faded beneath quiet laughter.
They argued over small things.
They walked beside the river until the stars appeared.
And somewhere between those quiet moments—
two warriors who had once lived only for battle began to fall in love.
In that world, there were no angels.
There were no demons.
Only Lucifell.
Only Leinca.
And for a brief moment in eternity—
war did not exist.
Then one day—
the sky cracked.
A thunderous fracture split the atmosphere like shattered glass.
The peaceful world trembled violently.
The silver fields twisted.
The rivers collapsed into spiraling light.
Lucifell grabbed Leinca's arm instinctively as the ground beneath them fractured apart.
"What is happening?"
But the world was already breaking.
The paradise around them shattered like a dream ending too soon.
And reality returned.
---
They stood once again on a battlefield.
Flames devoured the sky.
Thousands of soldiers clashed across a broken valley.
The banners of Heaven burned in the wind.
The black sigils of the Underworld rose against them.
Lucifell staggered back.
Golden armor had returned to his body.
Massive wings of light spread behind him.
Across from him—
Leinca stood frozen.
Her dark armor gleamed beneath the burning sky.
The crest of the Underworld shone upon her chest.
For a moment—
neither moved.
Neither spoke.
Both understood the truth instantly.
The person they had lived beside…
The person they had trusted…
The person they had loved…
Was their enemy.
Leinca's sword slipped from her hand.
The blade struck the ground.
Lucifell's hand trembled.
He could have ended it there.
One strike.
One moment.
One death.
Instead—
he stepped back.
"…Run."
Leinca looked at him in shock.
"Lucifell..."
"Run."
The battlefield roared around them once more.
And Leinca ran.
Lucifell did not follow.
That choice would change the fate of every realm.
The Kingdom of Heaven called it betrayal.
The healer of Heaven was cast down from the celestial realm.
His wings were broken.
His title erased.
And the angel who once healed the wounded was given a new purpose.
Punishment.
Lucifell could still heal the suffering.
But every wound he healed would become his own.
Every illness.
Every pain.
Every dying breath.
Thus the healer became something far darker.
And the fallen angel descended to the world of mortals.
Years passed.
Kingdoms rose.
Wars spread across the continent.
And eventually one kingdom discovered the fallen angel.
The Kingdom of Mournvale.
They saw not a traitor of Heaven—
but a weapon.
And so Lucifell became the War Commander of Mournvale.
But fate is cruel.
Because while Lucifell built his legend among mankind—
the armies of the Underworld were rising once again.
And leading them…
was the woman who once lived with him in a paradise that should never have existed.
Leinca.
The War Commander of the Underworld.
Soon—
they would meet again.
Not in peace.
But on a battlefield where only one of them could remain standing.
The war had already begun.
They simply had not faced each other yet.
Soon—
the two warriors who once shared a paradise that should never have existed would meet again.
Not beneath quiet skies.
Not beside silver rivers.
But at the center of a war that would decide the fate of Heaven, the Underworld, and the fragile kingdoms of mankind.
One of them would lead the armies of darkness.
The other…
would become something far more terrifying.
Because the fallen angel who once healed the wounded was slowly becoming a legend whispered across battlefields.
A commander who never lost.
A man whose enemies vanished before the night ended.
A name soldiers spoke only in hushed voices.
Lucifell.
And before the world understood what he truly was—
they would give him a title that even kings feared.
The Nightbringer.