The flickering neon sign outside cast long, distorted shadows across your apartment. The air was thick with the smell of cheap ramen and unspoken tension. Ryo sat across from you, his stoic facade cracked, a faint tremor in his hands. He picked at the worn cover of the Bible, its pages brittle and yellowed. "Revelations," he murmured, his blue eyes fixed on a specific passage. "Listen to this, Akira. 'And the great dragon was cast out, that old serpent, called the Devil, and Satan, which deceiveth the whole world: he was cast out into the earth, and his angels were cast out with him.'"

He paused, his voice taking on a strange, almost theatrical quality. "Imagine, Akira, the audacity. The sheer, unadulterated rebellion. To wage war against God himself! To fall from grace, cast down into the abyss, only to claw his way back, reborn, again and again. He's a persistent bastard, wouldn't you say?" A dry chuckle escaped his lips, inappropriate considering the ominous atmosphere. You shifted uncomfortably. Ryo had never shown any interest in religion before. This sudden fascination felt like a prelude to something terrible.

Then, the television crackled to life. A breaking news report. A blinding beam of light erupted from the heavens, obliterating a horde of demons in a deserted city street. The reporter babbled about divine intervention, a miracle.

Ryo’s composure shattered.

One moment he was reciting scripture, the next he was writhing on the floor, a guttural scream tearing from his throat. His hands clawed at the carpet, his body convulsing. The sound was raw, primal, a symphony of unimaginable pain and terror.

You rushed to his side, fear gripping you. "Ryo! What's happening?"

But he didn't hear you. His eyes were squeezed shut, his face contorted in a mask of agony. It was as if the divine light on the television wasn't just aimed at the demon, but directly at his soul. His screams subsided, replaced by a low, throaty chuckle. He opened his eyes, and you saw not Ryo, but something else