When I died, I believed God had finally rewarded me.
My life had not been a good one. I was poor, mocked, and forgotten. While others indulged in sin and pleasure, I endured. I believed suffering was a test. I believed patience was virtue. I believed that one day God would reward the faithful.
So when I opened my eyes again, I knew my faith had not been misplaced.
Peace surrounded me. The air itself felt gentle. Every burden I had ever carried vanished like a dream. The memories of pain began to fade, and I did not try to hold onto them.
Soon the rewards began.
First came the wealth. Palaces rose around me, built from gold and marble. Rivers of molten gold flowed beneath the balconies. Jewels decorated every wall like stars scattered across the night sky.
Then came the pleasures.
The most beautiful women walked through my halls as if they had always belonged there. Their laughter echoed through the palace. Their eyes were filled with admiration.
Anything I desired appeared before me.
Food richer than any king’s feast. Clothes softer than clouds. Armies that bowed before my command.
All I needed to do was wish.
And so I lived.
When I had been alive, I was nothing. A man at the bottom of the world. The only thing that kept me going was the belief that God would reward my virtue.
Now that reward had finally arrived.
The actresses I once dreamed about belonged to me. The luxuries I had once envied were now beneath my feet. Those who disobeyed me could be punished however I wished.
And I punished them.
At first it was curiosity. Then it became entertainment.
The expressions on their faces fascinated me. Fear. Desperation. Pain.
The greater the violence, the more alive I felt.
Years passed. Perhaps centuries. Time meant nothing there.
Eventually even pleasure grew dull. I had exhausted every desire I could imagine. The feasts, the women, the wealth—it all began to feel ordinary.
So I began to look for new forms of amusement.
I discovered that new souls sometimes appeared in my world. Lost and broken people who had lived miserable lives.
One day I found a particularly pathetic one.
A man who had achieved nothing. His wife had abandoned him. His children had left him behind. All he possessed was a ridiculous belief that he was morally superior to everyone else.
He reminded me of someone.
I decided to entertain myself.
I showed him everything he had ever lost. His family. His home. The fragile things he had once loved.
Then I destroyed them in front of him.
The look on his face was exquisite.
Despair twisted his features as I dragged him into the courtyard.
Now it was time to finish the show.
I struck a match.
But the moment the flame touched him, something changed.
Pain exploded through my body.
It had been so long since I had felt pain that I almost didn’t recognize it. My chest tightened. My skin burned. My bones felt like they were tearing apart.
I fell to the ground screaming.
“What is happening?” I cried. “God! Please help me!”
And then I heard laughter.
It echoed from everywhere at once.
Deep. Amused. Ancient.
“So,” the voice said, “you believed you were a good man.”
I trembled.
“Was I not?” I begged.
The laughter grew louder.
“There was never a good man,” the voice replied.
“You spent your life believing you were better than others. Your virtue was only pride. Your suffering was only resentment.”
“No,” I whispered.
“You did not serve God,” the voice continued. “You served me.”
The world around me began to crack and crumble like glass.
The palaces vanished. The gold rivers dried into dust.
All that remained was darkness.
“You desired power,” the voice said.
“You desired reward.”
“You desired a world where your righteousness placed you above everyone else.”
The pain inside me grew unbearable.
“And so I gave it to you.”
I screamed.
“You are not the last virtuous man,” the voice said calmly.
“You are not the victim.”
“You are the judge. The tyrant. The destroyer.”
The voice paused.
Then it spoke the final words.
“You are the devil.”
“You are the Antichrist.”