Devil Slave (Satan system)

...Curiosity guided their feet. The soft laughter of the women floated through the trees like songbirds in spring, drawing Enel and Allison forward. Each step they took felt like a descent deeper into a dream—one from which they knew they would never want to wake.

They walked past towering trees that glowed faintly with hues of emerald and gold, their branches bending as if to let them pass, the leaves whispering secrets in an ancient tongue. The river danced beside them, its waters twinkling like molten diamond, and soon, through the parting woods, they saw them.

Two women—no, creations—played at the river's edge, their laughter brighter than sunlight, purer than a song sung by angels. Another stood farther down, perched on the roots of a tree, gently nibbling on a fruit as she watched the world without worry.

They were naked—but it was not the crude nakedness of shame or temptation. It was purity—like the undressed sky, the bare ocean, the untouched wind. Even they, in all their divine innocence, did not realize it. Their bodies were untouched by the stains of time and thought, unmarred by the burden of knowing good and evil.

The one closest to the river had hair black as nightfall, cascading gently to her shoulders like silk. Her skin was like soft alabaster kissed faintly by gold. Her face radiated a joy so innocent that the flowers beneath her feet seemed to bloom fuller with every step she took. Her laughter danced across the water like ripples in a pond. Even Allison—confident, composed Allison—felt herself shrinking internally, unsure of her own reflection beside such unfiltered beauty.

The other woman had hair the color of fresh-spilled wine—deep crimson, glowing faintly under the sun. Her eyes were ageless, like the first dawn after the world was born. Her every movement was poetry, her skin like soft rose quartz warmed by starlight. Her beauty was not just profound—it was primeval, as though she had been the blueprint from which beauty itself had been sculpted.

Allison stared, lips parted slightly, and felt a small, irrational ache in her chest.

And then the two women noticed them.

They turned with the grace of blooming lilies. Their eyes widened—not in fear, but in gentle wonder.

Enel froze.

His breath caught in his throat, his body was temporarily paralyzed in awe and disbelief.

The woman with the black hair approached slowly, her steps were light as the wind. Her eyes were whole—vivid and glimmering like galaxies trapped in crystal. This was Naamah.

But not the blind stoic Naamah he had known after the fall.

This one smiled without reservation. Her aura carried no guilt, no darkness, no blame. Her presence was as blameless as a child untouched by the world. It was impossible to believe this radiant being could ever become the cold, sightless, broken woman he would meet millennia later.

And the red-haired woman…

Lilith.

The first.

The Hell Mother. The one cast from stories and remade in myth and terror.

But this was not the demonized version. She was also the person that would become his first and true mother.

This Lilith moved without fear, her steps carrying the grace of the divine. She approached them, eyes gleaming with innocent curiosity, her hands outstretched in welcome. She smiled at Enel, and in that moment, the world paused.

Even the trees seemed to still—pausing their drawing of nutrients from the earth just to listen.

Her voice came like a lullaby sung by a thousand stars. "I've never seen you in the garden before," she said with a sweetness that brushed against the soul. "Are you newly created?"

Her words echoed not just in sound, but in meaning. Enel felt the weight of it crack something inside him. His knees wavered. He couldn't breathe—not from fear, but from reverence.

He wanted to fall.

To kneel.

To weep.

Because this—this divine, smiling being—was the woman who would one day become his first and truest mother.

Naamah ran up beside her, smiling brightly. "You startled us," she giggled, holding out fruit wrapped in leaflike cloth. "But guests should never go hungry!"

Allison accepted gratefully, bowing her head slightly in thanks, still overwhelmed by the purity of the moment. Enel, however, still hadn't said a word.

Allison stepped forward, sensing the silence had stretched too long. "We're sorry for intruding," she said softly. "We're looking for someone. The One Above All."

Naamah's smile softened. She tilted her head like a bird catching sunlight. "He doesn't come around very often anymore… but He'll be back. If you wait here, He'll surely visit again."

Allison blinked. "Do you know when?"

Naamah thought for a moment, then lifted her delicate hand and held up four fingers with a grin.

"Four days?" Allison asked, uncertain.

Naamah giggled again, shaking her head. "Four thousand years."

The words dropped like feathers, but carried the weight of stone.

Allison's eyes widened, but then—she understood.

Time here wasn't the same.

There was no decay, no urgency. No pain. Only perfection.

And no book written, no tale passed down, ever told the full length of the time that Adam, Eve, and their sisters had dwelled here in paradise. For all anyone knew… it might have been hundreds of thousands of years before the fall.

And until then, they had only known joy.

Then, suddenly, a gentle voice called out from a short distance away.

"Lilith!"

They turned, and from the edge of the grove came the woman who had earlier been picking fruit from one of the trees. She ran barefoot over soft moss, her laughter light, like bells made of water and air.

Enel's breath hitched again.

He recognized her instantly—though it tore at his soul to do so.

It was Durgia.

The youngest of the sisters. The one who, in the future, would wear her trauma in every scar on her skin, in every whisper of her shattered voice.

But not here.

Here, she was perfect.

Her skin glowed with the dew of youth—flawless, untouched, radiant. Her eyes sparkled like starlight trapped in springwater. She looked no older than sixteen in form, but her spirit held the peace of a soul born in light and cradled by eternity. She ran like the wind, hair streaming behind her like a silken veil, and joy dancing with every step she took.

She stopped in front of them and beamed brightly. "Lilith, it's time! Adam is waiting. He said it's your turn to sing to us."

Lilith's eyes lit up like the moon rising. "Really? It's that time already?"

Durgia nodded eagerly, then turned to Enel and Allison with a small, bashful smile. "You can come too, if you want. Everyone's gathering near the Tree of Life. It's always beautiful when she sings."

Enel couldn't speak.

He was staring—not in lust, but in heartbreak.

These women… these sisters… had no idea of what was to come.

Lilith, who would become the mother of rebellion.

Naamah, who would go blind in both eyes and heart.

Durgia, who would be broken until not even her reflection remembered her name.

And yet here they were—whole. Smiling. Full of light.

Allison looked at them, then gently took Enel's hand.

He didn't flinch.

He squeezed it back, though his eyes glistened.

"Lead the way," Allison said softly.