Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

No... it can’t end like this.

The pain coursed through his body like molten fire as he slowly pushed himself up from the crater. Every muscle screamed in protest, every fiber of his being burned in agony—but pride, that cursed pride, forced him to stand.

His golden eyes, now clouded with blood dripping from his forehead, locked onto Charlie. That pathetic little princess who dared show him mercy. Mercy? To him? Who the hell did this little bitch think she was? Did she really believe he’d thank her for it?

He shook his head in anger and fury as his gaze landed again on the cause of his humiliation. Lucifer—standing there with that smug, condescending expression he loathed so much.

Rage surged in him like a fiery tide as he began to shout:

“I’m the fucking Adam! The damn master of creation, and you… You’re just a miserable clown! I started life on Earth!”

He was the one who started it all. He was the one who ruined Eden. Who stole everything from my.

“All of humanity came from this fucking dick,” Adam growled, pointing toward his crotch. His fury only intensified as he turned toward the sinners watching from a distance. “You all should be worshiping me…”

Why are you looking at me like that? Disgust? Hatred? Indifference? Even pity? You should be thanking me for killing you! Filthy trash! I’m the good guy here. I’m the one who’s been protecting Heaven from this filth.

“…Ungrateful, repulsive...”

His eyes turned back to Charlie, and his rage mixed with something deeper—something more painful.

But in the back of his mind, something stirred. An ancient memory, buried beneath millennia of wrath and resentment. He remembered when he, too, had been pure light. When his essence shone with the same naïve compassion he now saw in Charlie’s eyes.

Once… once I was like her. Before everything went to hell. Before Lucifer ruined it all.

Eden. It always came back to Eden. That perfect place that had become his personal prison of bitter memories. Lilith—his first partner—who left him in the name of "freedom" to follow Lucifer. Eve, who chose the serpent over him. Even God, who let it all fall apart.

But above all, it was the loneliness, the abandonment, and betrayal that had corroded his heart, but never his soul.

Loneliness. That was the truth he never admitted. Thousands and thousands of years in solitude, watching everyone he ever loved abandon or betray him. Lilith had left with Lucifer. Eve was deceived by the serpent.

It always came back to him—that damned king of Hell, now standing there, staring at him with that same look of superiority mixed with sadness… and pity. As if Adam were the villain in this story.

He knew the light that had once been his essence had become corrupted—not from innate evil, but from the constant pain of being left behind.

“…Fucking losers.”

That’s when he felt the first blow. Sharp. Brutal. Straight through his back and out of his chest. His eyes went wide—not from physical pain, but from shock. Some cowardly piece of shit demon had stabbed him in the back and Adam could swear the fucking piece of shit who did it is smiling.

“Niffty!” he heard Charlie scream in the distance, and he thought he heard that traitorous bitch Vaggie cheer at his suffering.

Then Adam collapsed face-first onto the infernal ground with a heavy thud.

But Niffty didn’t stop. Another stab to his side. Then another to his back. Each strike sent waves of agony through his angelic form, but the worst pain wasn’t physical.
It was knowing he was dying alone.

Fuck… this hurts so much.

Despite everything, his mind drifted to questions buried deep within him. Would anyone even care if I died? He was fucking sure he wasn’t going to survive this shit. A dark thought crossed him—a painful truth.

No one… no one ever stays with me. I’m always the villain in everyone else’s story.

Faces flashed through his mind like ghosts. Sera—she definitely wouldn’t care. She’d probably be thrilled to get rid of the "problem" he represented.

Emily… he doubted she’d care either. He loved her like family, but was it mutual? He had never been sure. She had always kept her distance, probably poisoned by Sera, who likely filled her head with the idea that he was a bad influence. For someone who was supposed to be the seraph of joy, she hadn't done much to bring him happiness.

The other archangels… Michael, Raphael, Uriel… barely even spoke to me. Minimum contact. Just work and nothing more.

His mortal family? Cain had disappeared after murdering Abel. That bastard was probably in Hell—he was sure of it—but Cain never even tried to contact him. Not once.
Aclima had abandoned him to look for Cain in Hell. She left, and he never heard from her again.

Lilith, his first ex-wife… definitely wouldn’t care if he died. That bitch would probably celebrate. The only good thing about dying would be if Lute kicked her out of Heaven and sent her straight to Hell.

Eve, his second ex-wife… the less he thought about her, the better.

Abel—the coward—might be the only one who’d be sad he died… or maybe not. Adam couldn’t be sure.

Seth. Azura. They’d distanced themselves from him a long time ago, so he had no idea what they’d think of his death.

He could barely form new bonds in Heaven. All the work, the responsibilities… the exterminations…

Only his girls remained. The exorcists. And Lute. Maybe… maybe they cared.

But did they really care? Or were they just following Heaven’s orders?

Adam wanted to believe his girls loved him, but he’d always doubted the nature of their relationship. Still, even if they were just following orders… he couldn’t be mad at them. After all, he loved them like daughters.

If he regretted anything… it was letting so many of them die in battle.

He should’ve retreated the moment he saw them fall. He should’ve used his angelic rays from a distance, vaporizing the enemy while covering their escape—but instead, he let his rage and emotions take over.

He let himself be blinded by hate… and now he was paying the price.

So unfair…

He had tried, back when they first attempted to redeem the sinners—back when he still loved them. When, despite what they had done in life, he still hoped they could repent. But they ignored him. No one listened to him back then. And now that the fucking princess draws some rainbow-colored kiddie shit and sings a goddamn song… now they care?

Fucking unfair.

His vision was blurring. Golden blood stained the ground beneath him. He could feel his essence fading. The light that had once been him… was flickering out.

I should’ve died a long time ago. I should’ve died still being the “good guy”… I should’ve died when someone still loved me. When I mattered to someone.

But then—cutting through the fog of pain and despair—he heard a voice. A familiar voice.

One that screamed his name with a desperation he hadn’t heard in millennia.

“NO! Sir! You have to put up with!”

Lute—his lieutenant. His toughest, fiercest girl. She was screaming for him? For a moment, Adam thought he was hallucinating, his dying mind creating a fantasy to ease the pain of losing his divine ichor.

But no.

He barely felt it when someone turned him over and lifted his face off the ground, only to see… Lute, kneeling over him, crying. Crying for him.

“ADAM!”

He could see her face. Genuine pain. Real concern. Pure desperation.

Lute… my girl…

He could hear the anguish in her voice. The very real terror of losing him.

It was as if her entire world was falling apart watching him die.

Someone… someone actually cares about me. Someone will truly miss me.

For the first time in eons, Adam felt something beyond rage or pain.

He felt… relief.

He wasn’t completely alone.

He hadn’t been entirely forgotten.

His lips curled into what might’ve been a smile—or maybe just a grimace. The difference didn’t matter anymore.

Lute… at least… at least you…

Darkness slowly consumed him, but it no longer felt so cold.

In his final moments, Adam didn’t think of revenge or hatred.

He thought of the voice that had cried his name like his life mattered.

Like he mattered.

And with that thought, the first man believed he would cease to exist—but he didn’t mind.

Even if it was selfish, he was glad someone had cared.

That someone had wept for him…

And with that, Adam—the first man and father of humankind—let out his final breath.

.

.

.

Or so it should have happened if an entity had not meddled and injected chains into Adam's soul to force him to resurrect.

.

.

.

The cold.

That was the first thing his mind registered when he woke up. A bone-deep chill, stabbing into him like a thousand icy needles. His whole body felt numb, heavy, like he’d been submerged in frozen water for an eternity.

Adam breathed.

His lungs wheezed like an old forge—inhale, exhale, with a whistle. The pain was familiar. Too familiar. Like waking up in a dream where he’d already died. He blinked through a haze of red, his forehead pressed against a cracked stone, stained with blood—his or someone else's, he didn’t know.

Adam tried to roll onto his back, groaning when his spine screamed.

What... the fuck kind of pain is this?

That icy chill stabbed into his bones again, relentless. His whole body was stiff and sore. Thirteen puncture wounds burned like branding irons across his back, each one feeling like a hot coal had been jammed between his shoulder blades. He touched his ribs and shuddered.

Cowardly sinner… that little psycho bitch... once I find out who did this, I swear

Gradually, his vision cleared. Metallic walls. A low ceiling. Vapor spilling from his lips with each ragged breath.

It wasn’t just a freezer.

It was a refrigerated tomb. A vault turned into a frozen mausoleum.

“Where the fuck am I?"

He tried to push himself up against the lid of the chamber, and that’s when he realized two things that made him feel even more vulnerable.

First—he was completely naked. His robes, his clothing—everything was gone.

Second—his right arm… wasn’t there.

Where his limb should have been, there was only a stump, wrapped in what looked like makeshift bandages, stained with frozen golden blood.

“What the fuck?!” he screamed, his voice hoarse and raw, echoing off the metallic walls.

He raised his left hand to feel the area where his arm had once been—and saw his pinky was missing too.

Panic. Pure, raw panic surged through him.

Who did this? Who stripped me? Who fucking mutilated me?!

His eyes adjusted to the dim light, and he could see beyond his makeshift tomb.

There were others. Smaller chambers. Less ornate. He was clearly the largest, the most decorated. Like he was the centerpiece of some twisted collection.

How many others are here? Am I just another fucking trophy in this freak show?

Adam tried to stay calm, but between the pain and the surreal horror of the situation, it was nearly impossible.

And yet, through it all, one thought took hold: Get the hell out of this place.

Not that anything in Hell gave him “good vibes,” but this place… this place made his skin crawl.

Mustering what strength he could, he shattered the glass of his refrigerated tomb. The glass broke easily, almost too easily. He winced as shards fell on his aching body—and wings.

With a painful groan, he pulled himself out, staggering to his feet—naked, injured, and exposed—and found himself in what looked like an elegant basement turned luxury morgue.

He looked back at the chamber he’d crawled out of, and was surprised to find it decorated unlike the others.

It had ornate carvings, golden accents—like it was a work of art. A brass plate on the inside of the lid read: “The First Man – Unique Specimen.”

Adam clenched his remaining fist in anger and pain. He tried to piece together the last memories.

The cowardly sinner. The stabbing. The pain. Lute was calling his name. Darkness.

I should be dead. I should be completely dead… but I’m not.

Despite it all, a twisted smile crept onto his face. They couldn’t kill the fucking First Man. Now he just had to crawl out of this shithole and, when he returned to Heaven, he’d build a stronger army—plan better.

Adam would make those loser bastards, the fucking princess, and the traitor bitch regret ever laying a hand on him.

He tried to spread his wings, but they barely moved. They were stiff, frozen solid—like rusted metal instead of feathers.

He tried to lift off, to hover like he always had—but... nothing.

It was like his angelic powers had been shut off like a switch.

What did they do to me? Why can’t I—?

He scanned the room in more detail. It was elegant. Victorian. Fine furniture, expensive décor. The other refrigerated chambers were arranged like an exhibit.
It didn’t feel like the Hell he knew. Too refined. Too clean.

Where the hell am I? Who brought me here? And why keep me alive like some pet?

He was so deep in thought, instinctively covering himself with his left hand, that he didn’t hear the approaching footsteps. Not until a female voice spoke, smooth and amused.

“Well, well, well… what do we have here?”

Adam spun around, and found himself face to face with the strangest creature he’d seen in Hell. A tall, elegant demon woman with a smile full of razor-sharp teeth. Her skin was pale as porcelain, cheeks pink like they’d been painted on. She wore a black Victorian dress with red accents, a hat adorned with feathers and flowers. Her eyes were pitch black—no irises—and her hair was silver-gray, pulled up into an elaborate bun.

Who the hell is this lunatic? And why is she smiling at me like I’m her dinner? And why the fuck does she not feel like a regular sinner? Could she be one of those Overlord freaks?

Adam swallowed hard, but smirked mockingly. He studied her closely, and what unsettled him most… was her smile. It was too wide. Too eager. Like she was genuinely thrilled to see him awake. But her eyes… her eyes were analyzing him carefully.

“Amazing! Absolutely amazing!” the demon woman exclaimed, clapping her hands. “You’re really alive! I honestly thought you were dead for good. What a delicious surprise!”

Adam glared at her, his expression a mix of confusion, rising fury, and deep shame over his nudity.

“Who the hell are you? Where am I?” Adam growled, voice thick with rage, still trying to cover himself.

“Oh, my, such awful manners—I do apologize,” she said with a lilting laugh. “I’m Rosie, darling. Rosie, Overlord of Cannibal Town. And you, my esteemed fallen angel… are my very special guest.”

Oh great… one of those sick, twisted slaver freaks. Probably the dumbass leader of those cannibal psychos who helped that brain-dead princess.

If Adam had been in full health, uninjured, he might’ve smirked at finding such a big target. But in his current state—and depending on how powerful this psycho old woman was—he could very well die.

Honestly, Adam liked being alive, despite the loneliness and sadness. He had too many hobbies he enjoyed to want to die now.
And let’s be real—dying like this would mean getting eaten by this freak. Painful as hell. No thanks. He was going to live.

“Special guest? SPECIAL GUEST?!” Adam roared, stumbling a step toward her, trying to maintain some shred of dignity despite his nakedness. “You locked me in a fucking freezer tomb, I’m missing a goddamn arm, I’m butt-ass naked, and you call me a guest?!”

His thirteen stab wounds burned like coals down his back, each one a searing reminder. He clutched his ribs again, shivering.

Rosie laughed softly, like he’d just told the best joke.

“Well, technically, the freezer tombs are for preservation, darling. And as for your arm…” she patted her stomach with a satisfied smile, “I must say, it was absolutely delicious. Angels have such a divine flavor. How was I supposed to know you’d wake up? I thought you were dead.”

Adam froze. It hit him fully. They didn’t just cut off his arm. They fucking ate it. This psychotic cannibal had fed on him like a roasted chicken.

“YOU ATE MY FUCKING ARM?!” Adam roared, his voice cracking between fury and complete disbelief. Horror and rage swirled into a perfect storm. “YOU FUCKING SICK DEMONIC BITCH!”

Rosie delicately dabbed the corner of her mouth with a handkerchief, like she’d just finished sipping fine tea in the depths of Hell.

“Oh, darling, it was exquisite. It had such a unique flavor—sweet, with just a hint of celestial power. It practically melted on my tongue.”

Adam’s fury reached levels he didn’t even know existed. His eyes burned with blind, murderous rage.

“YOU WANT MORE OF ME, YOU CRAZY BITCH?!” he bellowed, lifting his remaining arm toward her with lethal intent. “THEN TAKE THIS, YOU FUCKING CANNIBAL WHORE!”

Adam focused, channeling all his rage into a devastating attack. He expected the golden beam of divine light—one he’d summoned countless times—to erupt from his hand and reduce this cannibal freak to ash and dust.

But... Nothing.

Absolutely nothing happened.

He stood there, arm pathetically outstretched, waiting for a power that never came. His eyes widened in utter surprise and confusion.

“What... what the fuck?” Adam murmured in disbelief, staring at his trembling hand like it was the first time he’d ever seen it.

Rosie watched him with an expression that mixed maternal disappointment and amusement, like a mother watching her five-year-old throw a tantrum in the middle of a supermarket.

“Oh, Adam,” she said his name with a mocking softness that made his skin crawl.

Adam was caught off guard hearing his name from her lips. For a moment, a strange feeling crept over him. It made sense, of course—he was the first fucking man, the leader of the exterminators. Everyone in Heaven and Hell should know his name. But there was something about the way she said it, with such mocking intimacy, that made him deeply uncomfortable.

“How...?” Adam began to ask but stopped himself. It wasn’t that she knew his name that bothered him—it was how she said it, like she’d known him forever.

“Tell me, Adam,” Rosie continued, ignoring his confusion, “what exactly happened after the battle? I’m dying to hear all the juicy details.”

She leaned forward with a delighted smile, like she was about to hear the spiciest gossip in Hell.

Adam felt like someone had rubbed salt into a gaping wound. His eyes narrowed with renewed fury.

“THAT’S NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS, BITCH!” Adam screamed, but Rosie just laughed even harder.

“Oh, but I think it is,” she replied sweetly. “After all, it’s not every day I have a fallen angel as a guest. Tell me, darling—what’s it like losing to a bunch of third-rate demons?”

I haven’t fallen, bitch.

That’s what Adam wanted to yell, but for some reason, the words caught in his throat. Instead, he focused on something else—his rage—to cover his hesitation.

“WE DIDN’T LOSE!” Adam shouted with fury and resentment, his voice echoing through the room. “IF IT WEREN’T FOR THAT PIECE OF SHIT LUCIFER, WE WOULD’VE WON! EVERYTHING WAS PERFECT UNTIL THAT BASTARD SHOWED UP OUT OF NOWHERE!”

Rosie clapped her hands with glee, like she’d just watched an especially entertaining performance.

“Ah, there it is! The real story!” she exclaimed wickedly. “The great Adam, brought down by his own pride and daddy Lucifer’s little surprise appearance. You know what the most delicious part of all this is? Your death was broadcast live to all of Hell. You were the laughingstock of every demon. Every damned soul mocked you.”

Adam was speechless for a moment, trying to process what he’d just heard. His face flushed a golden hue from humiliation and rage.

“That... that didn’t...” he stammered, but the words wouldn’t come.

“Oh, it did happen,” Rosie continued, savoring each word the way she had savored his arm. “I saw that little psycho demon stab you with your own weapon. Pretty ironic, isn’t it? The First Man, the leader of the exterminators, was killed by a tiny maid who wasn’t even five feet tall.”

Rosie’s smile turned even more cruel as she leaned in closer.

“Tell me, Adam, how does it feel knowing your legacy is now being the angel who lost the war against Hell? What’s it like knowing your name is now synonymous with celestial failure?”

Adam stared at her with a mix of disgust, distrust, and a rising sense of desperation. He was trapped, wounded, powerless, completely naked, and at the mercy of a cannibalistic demoness who clearly enjoyed every second of his humiliation.

If only I could summon my battle axe.

But he’d lost that too in the fight against that filthy shithole hotel. Adam wasn’t sure exactly when—but it had to be during the clash with that asshole Lucifer.

This bitch is completely insane. But I need to figure out what she wants—and how to get out of here. And get some fucking clothes, for heaven’s...

“Look, whatever-the-fuck—”

“Rosie,” she corrected sweetly.

“Rosie!” Adam shouted in exasperation, throwing up his hand. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but if you think I’m gonna stay here as your... your... personal experiment, you’re completely delusional.”

Rosie approached him with graceful steps, her smile never fading.

“Oh, but dear Adam, I think you don’t quite grasp your situation. You’re in MY territory, MY house, without your angelic powers, without your weapon, without clothes, missing an arm, and frankly... without many options.”

Her words were soft, almost affectionate, but the threat beneath them was razor sharp. Adam clenched the fist of his remaining arm, frustrated by his physical weakness and the loss of his abilities.

“What do you want from me?” Adam finally asked, his voice lower but still dripping with venom.

Rosie stopped in front of him, tilting her head with a predator’s curiosity.

“What do I want?” she repeated, as if the question itself was fascinating. “Well, at first, I simply wanted to preserve such a rare specimen. Your arm was an exquisite appetizer, I must say. But now that you’re awake...” her pitch-black eyes gleamed with hungry interest. “Now the possibilities are endless. I can’t help but wonder... what else about you might taste just as divine?”

Adam clenched his teeth so hard he thought they might crack. Pure rage pulsed through his veins like molten lava. But then, for the first time since he woke up, his mind cleared just enough to truly analyze the situation.

He was naked, mutilated, powerless, in enemy territory, facing a cannibal overlord who clearly had the upper hand. His pride screamed to fight—to die like a warrior. But a more primal part of him—the First Man’s survival instinct—whispered something else.

Run.

Without warning, Adam spun around and bolted toward the nearest door, ignoring his nakedness and the stabbing pain in his wounds.

Rosie blinked, genuinely surprised for a moment. But her expression quickly morphed into a grin even wider than before, like a predator watching its prey make a break for it. “Oh, how fun!” she exclaimed with delight. “I love when they play!”

Adam sprinted through the Victorian mansion’s hallways, his bare feet slapping against the wooden floor. He could hear Rosie’s musical laughter behind him, but he didn’t dare look back.

He turned a corner and found himself in a long hallway full of disturbing portraits. He ran, desperate, searching for an exit, any door that would lead him out of this nightmare.
He tried the first one he saw—but it was locked.

“Fuck!” he muttered, slamming his fist against the door.

Suddenly, the shadows around him came alive. Dark tendrils erupted from the walls—but they weren’t just shadows like Alastor’s. These were fleshy, oozing, covered in teeth that opened and snapped hungrily. Some looked like twitching intestines, others like exposed muscle that pulsed and throbbed. Adam dodged the first tentacle purely by instinct.

He ducked beneath another that tried to wrap around him, running full speed toward the end of the hallway. He found a staircase and started climbing, hoping for a window—or any other way out.

“You can’t escape, darling!” Rosie called out from below, her voice full of amusement. “This is MY house!”

Adam reached the second floor, gasping for air. He tried several doors—every one locked. Behind him, the squelching sounds of those fleshy tentacles slithered up the stairs. Finally, he found an open door and threw himself inside, landing in what looked like a library.

He dashed toward the windows, but when he tried to open them, he realized they were sealed with some kind of dark magic.

He pounded uselessly against the glass.

“What the fuck?!” he growled, slamming the window with his fist.

The tendrils began slipping in beneath the door and through cracks in the walls. Adam leapt onto a table, then to a bookshelf, trying to stay out of reach.

But there were too many.

One thick, muscular tentacle lunged at him. Adam barely dodged it by jumping back, but lost his balance and fell from the shelf.

He rolled just as another tentacle slammed into the spot where his head had been.

“Shit!” he yelled, scrambling to his feet and rushing for the door.

He bolted out of the library, jumping two steps at a time down the staircase. But now the tendrils were coming from every direction.

One lunged at his torso—he dove and rolled under it. Another whip was at his legs—he barely leapt over it.

“Come on, come on!” he muttered to himself, tearing down another corridor.

But then—as he dodged one tendril sprouting from the wall—he didn’t see the one rising from the floor.

Something wet and muscular coiled around his left leg.

“Fuck!” he screamed just before he was yanked violently off the ground.

The fleshy tentacle hoisted him like a ragdoll and slammed him into the wooden floor with brutal force. His back cracked against the boards, and the air left his lungs in a strangled gasp.

Despite the blinding pain, Adam managed to wrench himself free from the tentacle, then rolled to the side and got to his feet with difficulty. Golden blood dripped from fresh wounds.

Rosie appeared, walking gracefully down the hallway, her steps measured and refined, as if she were strolling through a garden rather than chasing her prey.

“Oh, dear Adam!” she sang out with false concern. “Did you hurt yourself? How clumsy of me—I really should be more careful with my toys.”

“GO FUCK YOURSELF!” Adam roared and, without thinking twice, lunged at her with his fist clenched.

If he couldn’t escape, he’d at least try to knock her out. Adam swung a punch directly at Rosie’s face with his only arm, but she tilted her head ever so slightly to the side, dodging it with supernatural grace. Her smile never wavered.

“Oh, such energy!” Rosie exclaimed delightedly.

Adam followed up with another punch, but Rosie slid backward as if dancing. Her fleshy tentacles emerged from the floor, but Adam managed to leap over one and continue his attack, though it was hard to keep his balance with just one arm.

“STAND STILL, BITCH!” he yelled, throwing another punch.

Rosie dodged again with a step back, but Adam noticed her movement had thrown her slightly off balance. She didn’t seem like one of those sinners who could take his hits—if only he could land one hard enough to stun her long enough to escape this goddamn nightmare.

A muscle-textured tentacle shot toward his ribs. Adam ducked under it and launched an uppercut toward Rosie’s chin, but she managed to lean back just in time, though she stumbled slightly on her Victorian skirt.

“Come on, darling! You can do better than that!” Rosie taunted, regaining her composure as another tentacle tried to snare his legs.

Adam jumped, narrowly avoiding the trap. His single arm put him at a disadvantage, but his survival instincts were firing on all cylinders. He used the momentum of the leap to try a kick toward Rosie’s stomach. This time, he landed a partial hit. It wasn’t direct, but he clipped her side, making her stagger back. Rosie was tough, but definitely had a normal human body that could be thrown off balance.

“Almost!” Rosie exclaimed with genuine amusement, though Adam noticed she clutched her side. “That was close!”

Two fleshy tentacles sprouted simultaneously from the side walls. Adam ducked under the first, but couldn’t completely avoid the second. It struck his shoulder, slamming him against the wall, but he managed to roll and avoid a third strike.

“Goddamn it!” he growled, spitting golden blood.

He launched himself toward Rosie again, this time faking a direct punch before changing direction. His single arm limited his options, but just before his fist could land, a sack of flesh—whatever abomination she’d summoned—moved in to shield her.

“What the fuck?!” It was the second time someone blocked him at the last second, but unlike the last fight, this time he was ready for the counter.

A toothy tentacle aimed for his head. Adam dropped to the floor with his one arm, rolled to the side, and sprang up—only to find another tentacle coming straight for his chest. He dodged it by leaping backward, but the movement left him off-balance.

“Disgusting!” Adam shouted, trying to keep his distance.

Rosie clapped gleefully. “Bravo! Bravo! What a wonderful performance! And I must admit, fighting with one arm? Quite impressive!”

Adam charged her again, but this time, three tentacles dropped from the ceiling. He dodged the first, evaded the second by leaping sideways, but the third slammed into his ribs, sending him crashing into a Victorian cabinet that shattered beneath the impact.

“Oops!” Rosie said with mock concern. “That was my favorite piece of furniture!”

Adam managed to get to his feet, gasping for breath. Golden blood dripped from multiple new wounds, but his eyes still burned with determination. He threw another desperate punch, but Rosie dodged easily, and when he tried again, she moved like a dancer.

In a moment of desperation, Adam extended his wings, attempting to use his wingspan to surprise her from above. He managed to lift a few feet into the air, aiming to drop on her with all his weight and his one fist ready.

“Interesting tactic!” Rosie commented, looking up with curiosity.

But Adam’s wings—still stiff from the cold and weakened by his condition—couldn’t support him properly. He began to wobble in the air, and though he aimed himself toward Rosie, a fleshy tentacle slammed into him from the side just before he could connect, sending him crashing to the floor.

“Shit!” he yelled, trying to get up quickly.

Rosie approached him with her usual graceful pace while he struggled to stand.

“Oh, dear! The wings aren’t working too well, are they? What a shame!”

With a roar of frustration, Adam struggled to his feet and staggered to his feet, gritted his teeth in a desperate last-ditch attack. In response, one of the tentacles struck him, only for another to strike him from an opposite direction, bouncing him like a ping-pong ball.

“OW! OW! OW!” Adam grunted with each hit, trying to stay on his feet.

Finally, when Adam attempted another strike, multiple fleshy tentacles erupted from the floor at once. This time, he couldn’t dodge them all. One wrapped around his leg, another around his arm, and a third around his torso.

“NO, NO, NO!” Adam screamed, struggling against the binds.

But it was useless. The tentacles dragged him down and pinned him to the floor. They weren’t simple restraints—they were living muscles that pulsed and squeezed him to the ground, throbbing with a nauseating rhythm like a massive heartbeat.

Adam writhed in disgust, the wet, hot texture of the fleshy restraints making him want to vomit. Indignation and fury coursed through his veins like poison.

“LET ME GO, YOU DISGUSTING BITCH!” he screamed, thrashing uselessly against the organic binds that seemed to tighten every time he moved.

Rosie approached calmly, fixing a strand of hair that had come loose during the chase.

“Well, that was invigorating,” she said with a satisfied smile. “Now, let’s talk business, dear Adam.”

She knelt beside him, her Victorian skirt spreading elegantly around her.

“You see, having the soul of the First Man would definitely make me much stronger. Just imagine the power I could gain from something so... pure and ancient. So, I’ll make you a generous offer: if you behave, if you’re a good boy, I can adopt you. You’d be my special pet—my most prized trophy.”

Adam looked at her with pure disgust.

“Are you fucking insane?” Adam spat. “I’d rather die than sell my soul to a cannibal psychopath like you. I’m not some coward afraid of death—or some spineless wretch who chains himself to someone like you.”

Rosie sighed theatrically, like a mother disappointed by a stubborn child.

“What a shame! I really hoped you’d be more reasonable. But I suppose we’ll have to do this the hard way.”

She stood up slowly, and Adam saw something gleaming in her hand. A butcher knife, stained with what looked like dried blood.

“If you can’t appreciate my generosity, then I’ll just have to settle for... smaller portions. After all, I’ve already tasted your arm. I wonder what your leg tastes like.”

When Rosie raised the knife—clearly forged from angelic steel—Adam felt true panic for the first time. But his desperate mind found one last card to play.

“WAIT!” he shouted, his voice cracking slightly. “Wait! Why... why don’t you try to convince me first? Why don’t you explain exactly why I should join you? Maybe... maybe I haven’t heard all the perks!” Adam said, trying to buy time and think of a way out of this goddamn nightmare.

Rosie lowered the knife slightly, her smile turning even more wicked and amused. The fleshy tentacles binding Adam relaxed just enough for him to speak comfortably, but still held him firmly pinned.

“Oh, dear Adam!” Rosie exclaimed with false sweetness. “How clever of you to ask about the perks! You see, darling, the perks are absolutely... nonexistent.”

Adam blinked, processing her words. He wanted to mock the stupid cannibal demon for how obvious that was—but instead, he decided to play along.

“What... what do you mean nonexistent?” Adam asked with a nervous laugh—because honestly, he was. “Come on, there’s got to be something, right? Maybe a demonic health plan? Paid vacation in the circles of Hell?” Adam nearly rolled his eyes.

Rosie laughed with genuine delight.

“Oh, no, no, no! No perks for you, darling. Only for me. You see, you’d have the wonderful privilege of being my special pet, my most prized trophy. You’d live in a beautiful cage, well-fed with scraps from my banquets...”

“Perfect!” Adam interrupted sarcastically, his cynical smile widening. “And I suppose I’d also get the honor of being your evening entertainment? Maybe we can bond over Torture Tuesdays and Dismemberment Fridays?”

“Exactly!” Rosie clapped her hands excitedly. “You learn so quickly! And of course, now and then, when I’m feeling a little peckish, I might nibble on you a bit. Nothing fatal, of course. A finger here, a toe there...”

Adam felt as if ice water had been poured down his back, but he kept up his forced smile.

“Oh, you’re just so fucking charming—definitely not insane at all!” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “And I suppose if I misbehave, what then? Do you give me a lecture on manners and old-fashioned ethics?”

Rosie’s smile turned genuinely terrifying.

“Oh, darling, if you misbehave, I’ll peel your skin off centimeter by centimeter while you’re still conscious. Then I’ll feed you your own guts before leaving you bleeding in the basement with the flesh-eating rats.”

Adam swallowed hard, but couldn’t resist a sarcastic jab.

"Wow, what...lovely hospitality! You really know how to make a guest feel welcome. Five stars for your crappy hospitality, no doubt." Adam rolled his eyes.

“Thank you, dear!” Rosie replied, playing along despite knowing it was sarcasm. “But you see, as much as I’d love to have you under my control... if you won’t accept, I can’t risk you escaping or causing trouble. You’re too powerful—even without your angelic abilities. So, if we don’t seal the deal, I’ll have to settle for killing you in the slowest, most painful way possible. I’m sure no one would blame me.”

Adam felt his smile fade a little.

““You do have your goals straight, huh?” he muttered. He swallowed again. Despite this whole bullshit conversation, he still hadn’t found a way out—and hope was slipping away with each second.

“Of course, darling!” Rosie laughed. “I can’t risk you getting your powers back or finding a way out. So if you won’t take the kindness I offer, I think I’ll just chop you into pieces and—”

Adam stopped hearing Rosie the moment the air shifted. Something ancient and sinister materialized. Shadows twisted unnaturally. Rosie’s tentacles tensed as if sensing something, but they didn’t release him.

A figure emerged from the darkness, tall and imposing.

It was a woman—her very presence radiated primal power and malice. She looked like a slender demon with white skin and long black hair that burned like a flame, fading into reddish brown. Her mouth was full of needle-like teeth, and her eyes glowed with red sclera and white irises, their pupils tiny. She wore burgundy eye shadow, had black lips, and black vein-like markings on her neck. Her arms were black, tar-like, resembling more beast than human.

She wore a wide-brimmed black fedora with a white band and a mysterious symbol in the center, plus a checkered black-and-white visor. A red, sleeveless, and tattered trench coat hung open, matching her hat’s visor design. Underneath, a checkered tube top, long black gloves, and tight black pants.

“Hello, Adam,” the figure said, her voice like the rustling of dead leaves. “I’m Roo.”

Adam frowned in confusion.

“Roo? What the hell is a Roo? You some kind of demonic Pokémon or what?” He had no damn clue who she was, but just looking at her sent chills down his spine. Whoever she was, she wasn’t ordinary.

Adam glanced at Rosie, completely oblivious to Roo’s presence.

He was about to ask the intruding demoness something when Roo raised a hand.

“Silence,” she said coldly, emotionlessly. “She can’t see me, doesn’t know I’m here. But if you keep talking, you’ll alert your enemy. And trust me—you don’t want her realizing something’s wrong. We don’t have much time. The Overlord might lose her patience. And believe me, you do not want her to lose patience with you.”

Roo began to pace slowly near Adam as she explained his situation in a cold, detached tone.

“Let me be clear about what happens if this Overlord gets annoyed. First, she’ll cut off your toes one by one and eat them while she describes the taste. Then she’ll flay your left leg, keeping the flesh alive and sensitive. Then she’ll tear out one of your eyes and make you swallow it, but only after she shows you exactly how she’ll prepare it. And that’s just the light stuff for her… so you can imagine what she considers serious.”

Adam shuddered involuntarily, his skin pale. He looked back at Rosie, who was still rambling cheerfully about the power she’d gain from his soul.

“...and with the power of the First Man, I could expand my territory. Maybe, just maybe, if I play it smart and make the right moves from the shadows, I could get the other Overlords to destroy each other! Wouldn’t that be marvelous?” Rosie chirped, completely unaware of the “conversation” Adam was having.

Roo continued, her voice still flat.

“You’ve been dead six months, by the way. Exterminations were canceled after your death. Most interesting of all? Heaven abandoned you.”

Adam felt like he’d been stabbed in the chest.

“What... what do you mean they abandoned me?” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper, feigning interest in Rosie’s ongoing monologue.

“No one came to retrieve your body,” Roo replied with the same dead tone. “They left you here to rot and be devoured by cannibals. No angels. No seraphs. No one came for you.”

Adam wanted to scream. To deny it.

To yell that it was a lie—he was the First fucking Man, too important to be forsaken. But the words died in his throat. Saying anything might alert the refined psychopath.

Roo, as if reading his thoughts, tilted her head. “So where are they?” she asked with mock curiosity. “If you’re so important, where are all those angels who were supposed to rescue you?”

Adam froze. Dead silent.

The weight of her words hit him like a hammer.

“You have three options,” Roo continued. “One: die here and now, refuse Rosie’s deal, and get devoured piece by piece. Two: accept her deal, lose your dignity, live as her slave, tortured and eaten slowly for her amusement.”

She paused dramatically—and with a flick of her hand, a floating apple appeared. But not just any apple. It was perfect—bright red, glowing with both majestic and ominous energy. Adam recognized it immediately. How could he not?

“Or...” Roo continued, spinning the apple slowly in the air. “You could eat the apple you never ate.”

Adam felt the world pause. A tidal wave of emotion crashed into him.

First—disbelief. Did that apple still exist? He thought it had been destroyed millennia ago.

Then—outrage. How dare she offer that after everything it had cost him?

And finally, pure rage. If not for that damned apple, everything wouldn’t have gone to hell.

His perfect life in Eden, his relationship with Eve, his supposed friendship with Lilith and Lucifer—it all shattered because of that fucking fruit.

Roo didn’t smile. She simply looked at him with something close to pity.

“The third option,” she repeated in her monotone. “You eat the apple you never ate. Gain the power and knowledge that Lilith and Eve received. Take revenge on those who wronged you. Find out why Heaven truly abandoned you. Find out if Lute really gave up on you… Or if Heaven stopped her.”

Roo’s voice softened ever so slightly, but remained detached.

“I’m not trying to manipulate you.” She lied—and they both knew it. “You’re free to choose whatever you want. But I wanted to give you at least one real choice.”

Adam wanted to scoff. Of course she only gave him this option now, when he was utterly screwed. Any other time, and he’d have gone straight for her throat for being a demon.

He stayed silent for long minutes, processing it all. His mind was a hurricane of thoughts.

Finally, Rosie finished her monologue and turned to him with a cruel smile. “So, dear, do we have a deal or not?”

With a wave of her hand, the tentacles released Adam’s arm, though the rest of him remained restrained. Rosie held out her hand, grinning wickedly.

“All you have to do is shake, sweetheart—and it’s done. You’ll be mine forever.”

Roo smiled for the first time—a cold, empty smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She placed the apple near Adam’s free hand, just close enough to grab.

"The choice is yours, Adam," Roo murmured. "Die, live enslaved, or live free."

Adam looked at Rosie. Then the apple. Then Rosie again.

His breath grew heavier. And slowly, a defiant smile crept onto his face.

“I want to live,” he said, voice clear and full of resolve.

Rosie’s smile widened eagerly as she leaned closer. “Excellent choice, darling! You’ll be the most beautiful of my—”

“My own way, bitch,” Adam interrupted.

With a sudden motion, he spat blood-tinged saliva right in Rosie’s face—

—and grabbed the apple with his free hand, bringing it to his mouth.

Rosie froze mid-sentence. Her smile faltered. Golden spit dripped down her cheek as her expression twisted from delight to indignation, then to barely contained rage. Her eyes burned with homicidal fury, and the air around her thickened like a storm.

“WHAT THE FUCK—?!” she began to roar. But then she saw the apple in Adam’s hand.

Her fury blinked into genuine confusion. Her eyes widened in disbelief.

“...A... an apple?” she stammered, baffled by the seemingly random object.

Adam ignored her. His thoughts were steel.

No matter what happened next, he’d accept the consequences. Because he was the First Man—and he’d never kneel. He’d live and do whatever the hell he wanted.

With a bloodstained, defiant grin, Adam looked Rosie dead in the eye.

“Because I’m Adam the First Fucking Man and I do whatever the fuck I want.”

Rosie narrowed her eyes in fury and prepared to crush a few bones with the flesh tentacles, but...

...Then, without another second's hesitation, Adam sank his teeth into the apple.

The effect was instant and devastating.

Roo's smile widened—truly, horribly. A warped, feral grin stretched across her face. Her pale, empty eyes burned with ancient malice.

All of Hell shook. A power not felt since Lucifer’s fall tore through reality. The foundations of existence trembled—

—as the forbidden power surged through Adam’s body.

And in that moment. Adam knew—There was no going back.

Chapter Text

Pain.

That was the only thought running through the first man's mind. An indescribable AGONY. This made him wonder if this was what Eve and Lilith felt when they bit the forbidden fruit.

"AAAAHHHHHHH!" Adam screamed, his voice distorting as his body began to change.

All of hell trembled with devastating force. The windows of Rosie's mansion shattered, furniture overturned, and cracks appeared in the walls. The tremor's force was so intense that Rosie went flying backwards.

The cannibal overlord reacted quickly. While flying through the air, she screamed in surprise, yet immediately began creating four spider legs that sprouted from her back. These were pure flesh, with pulsing veins and a repulsive organic texture. The fleshy appendages embedded deeply into the wooden floor, anchoring her to avoid being thrown.

Her elegant Victorian hat flew through the air and crashed against the wall as she struggled to maintain balance. Her eyes fixed on Adam with a mixture of morbid horror and fascination. Rosie used her arms to shield her face from the strong wind that emanated solely from the presence of the first man and father of humanity.

Adam's transformation was grotesque and hypnotic. His body stretched and expanded, becoming larger and more muscular than the first man already was. His skin changed from its normal tone, being replaced by a black exoskeleton that extended like angular armor plates, similar to an apex predator's shell.

His arms lengthened considerably, becoming more powerful. The elegant exoskeleton covered every inch of his new form, giving him a sleek, insectoid appearance that radiated lethal power.

Four smaller arms emerged from his body right at his ribs, his human hands transforming dramatically. His fingers extended and his nails became razor-sharp claws, each one seeming capable of cutting steel like butter. The claws gleamed with an unnatural edge, promising death to anyone who touched them.

From his face sprouted two small pincers that moved with threatening fluidity, and his face elongated slightly and took on an insectoid form, maintaining his basic features but adding a more angular and predatory quality. His jaw became more prominent, and when he smiled, it revealed that his teeth had disappeared to adapt to his monstrous form.

His beautiful golden wings began to shed, falling to the ground like dead feathers before turning to golden ash, only to be replaced by four transparent insect wings that emerged from his back, unfolding with a sinister buzz.

But most shocking was what happened to his eyes. His eyelids closed tightly for several seconds, and when they finally opened, they were no longer the golden eyes of the first man. Now they were completely red - an intense crimson red that covered the entire eye. There was no pupil, no iris, just that solid, brilliant red color that seemed to burn with malevolent and cruel intelligence.

The presence he emanated was crushing: a lethal aura that screamed "apex predator." The air itself became heavy and poisonous around him.

When the transformation ended, Adam gasped from the pain, his breathing labored. Then he began examining his new body with analytical curiosity.

He flexed his new muscles, noticing how each movement was more fluid and powerful. His senses had sharpened exponentially: he could hear Rosie's terrified heartbeat, smell her fear, feel every vibration in the ground.

Rosie watched him cautiously, her four fleshy legs keeping her stable in the air as she subtly began preparing for battle. Her tentacles moved nervously, ready to attack or defend.

But Adam paid her no attention. Instead, he turned his head toward where Roo was, with indignation.

"WHAT THE FUCK, ROO?!" Adam shouted, his voice now deeper with a disturbing timbre. "Seriously, why didn't you give me a warning that I'd turn into a damn bug?!"

Roo stood before him with a mischievous smile, clearly enjoying herself enormously.

"Oh, but Adam!" she purred with a seductive voice. "Look at you! Now you're quite the beast... literally! And I must admit the exoskeleton suits you very well!"

"SUITS ME WELL?!" Adam roared with rage and indignation, gesturing at himself with his six arms. "Now I'm like one of those trash, pieces of shit losers of sinners!"

"Mmm, true..." Roo floated around him, examining him with obvious interest. "But look on the bright side... you look absolutely adorable! Like a giant, very, very angry beetle."

Adam blinked, a vein bulging on his forehead.

"This isn't the time for your little jokes, bitch." Adam commented with a predatory growl, his tone hoarse and evil. "I lost all my fucking attractiveness, my face, my body, and worst of all... MY FUCKING INCREDIBLE WINGS! THEY WERE MY FUCKING PRIDE! AND NOW THEY'RE GONE!"

"Oh come on! It's not all bad! Now you have four wings instead of two! It's like a promotion!" Roo laughed, gesturing toward his new features. "Not to mention you now look like a Herculean insect. Plus you give off that lethal predator look along with those threatening red eyes, I find it quite... attractive."

"Wait, what the hell are you saying?!" Adam roared, bringing his hands to his face. "MY EYES CHANGED COLOR?! AND HOW IS HAVING THESE DRAGONFLY WINGS A PROMOTION?! MY OLD GOLDEN WINGS WERE PERFECT, THEY SHONE LIKE THE SUN!"

"Oh, honey!" Roo approached dangerously. "Look on the positive side! Now no one can accuse you of being a little angel! And with those pincers..." she made a theatrical pause. "At least you now have built-in equipment for when you find someone who likes rough play!"

Adam stopped, processing that.

"You know what? That sounds... wait, NO!" Adam pointed at her with annoyance. "You're not going to distract me! Why did I have to transform into this giant bug?! WHY DID I HAVE TO LOSE MY PERFECT BODY?! MY SCULPTED MUSCLES?! MY ANGELIC FACE?! MY INCREDIBLE WINGS?! I WOULD HAVE THOUGHT TWICE!"

Roo sighed, now annoyed. "Relax... there are still methods for you to look human again... though it won't be your real appearance. Since what you have now is the definitive one."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Adam groaned with exasperating annoyance. "At least tell me, for the love of God, that... I still have a fucking huge dick." Adam looked at his crotch and saw nothing, which made Adam whimper sadly.

"Oh yes! A very huge and retractable dick with which you can be very PENETRATING." Roo purred and made a mocking, grotesque sound of an unsheathed sword. "Plus, imagine the possibilities with those pincers! Very... practical!"

Adam looked at her incredulously.

"Are you seriously making sexual innuendos when I literally look like something out of a horror movie?"

"And a good one!" Roo responded with a giggle. "You're like a sexy villain! That most people would want to fuck... very impressive actually!"

"I DON'T WANT TO BE IMPRESSIVE, I WANT TO BE SEXY!" Adam began walking in circles, his wings buzzing slightly. "AND WHAT AM I GOING TO DO IF I WANT TO SCREW?! HUH?! WHO IN THE WORLD WANTS TO SLEEP WITH A FUCKING GIANT SCARY BUG?!"

"I'm sure many people would!" Roo floated in front of him. "Besides, now you're a very sexy and scary giant bug can be very attractive! Dangerous! And exciting! Imagine the role-playing!"

Adam stopped, considering that for a moment. He couldn't deny he was fucking curious. "Role-playing?"

"Yes! The predator and prey! The hunter and the hunted! With those wings you can chase someone all over hell and make her yours! Very romantic!"

"Romantic?" Adam said incredulously while moving his wings experimentally. "You have a very fucked up way of seeing romance, not to mention it's fucking creepy and something a pure weirdo would say... What you're saying sounds more like kidnapping!"

"Oh, Adam! Don't be such a fucking party pooper!" Roo pouted, but then smiled mockingly. "You can always say you're... exotic. Unique! Irresistible in a very... specific way!"

"SPECIFIC?!" Adam grabbed his head in frustration and disbelief. "SPECIFIC LIKE I HAVE A BUG FETISH?!"

"Exactly," Roo clapped mockingly.

Adam frowned, shaking his head with annoyance. "This is a fucking disaster!"

"Oh, don't be so dramatic!" Roo commented with a slight smile. "Besides, think about it! Now you have super sharp claws! You can cut anything! And those wings! You can fly at incredible speeds! It's like having built-in superpowers!"

'Don't be dramatic, says the complete bitch, weird freak who probably likes fucking insects', Adam thought annoyed, before flexing his new claws, admiring their edge.

"Well... I admit this is kind of cool," Adam said reluctantly. "But why didn't you warn me about all this?"

"Because it would have been less fun!" Roo laughed. "Besides, the expression you made when you saw your wings fall was priceless! Like a child losing his favorite toy!"

"It wasn't a toy, it was part of my charm!" Adam grumbled annoyed and irritated, along with slight sadness for losing his beautiful perfect wings.

"And now you have a completely new charm!" Roo winked. "More... aggressive! More intense! More... biting!"