The group followed Selene through another series of winding tunnels, the air becoming heavier with each step. The oppressive atmosphere was different from the chamber of Lucifer’s statue—it was harsher, angrier, as if the very walls resonated with suppressed fury.

Finally, they emerged into a cavernous hall dominated by a towering statue of a fearsome figure. Unlike Lucifer’s statue, which exuded tragic beauty, this one was brutal and commanding. The figure was clad in dark, jagged armor, its face a mask of rage, with piercing eyes that seemed to burn even in the cold stone. Behind the figure stretched massive, leathery wings, and at its feet lay broken weapons and shattered shields.

“This,” Selene said, her voice steady, “is Satan, the Prince of Wrath.”

Selene gestured toward the statue. “Before Satan became the embodiment of wrath, he was one of Heaven’s fiercest warriors. His name was Samael, and he was an archangel of unparalleled strength and skill. He was the sword of Heaven, a defender of order, and a destroyer of chaos. When Lucifer rebelled, it was Samael who led the charge against her forces. He was Heaven’s greatest general, loyal and unwavering.”

Jack tilted his head. “Then how did he fall? If he fought against Lucifer, why is he in Hell now?”

Selene’s gaze darkened. “Samael’s fall was not born of rebellion, like Lucifer’s. It was born of anger. Even after defeating Lucifer’s forces, Samael was consumed by the destruction he had wrought. The war awakened something primal within him—a rage that he could not control. He began to question why such violence was necessary, why he was created to destroy. His fury turned inward, and he began to resent the Creator’s plan.”

“Samael’s anger grew over time,” Selene continued. “He saw himself as a tool, a weapon used by the Creator to enforce divine will. The more he fought, the more his wrath consumed him. He lashed out at those around him, and his once-loyal comrades began to fear him. It wasn’t long before he was cast out of Heaven—not for rebellion, but for the chaos his anger had sown.”

Emma frowned. “So he didn’t choose to fall?”

“No,” Selene replied. “His fall was inevitable, driven by the very nature of his being. Samael became Satan—the Adversary, the Warlord of Wrath. When he fell, he brought with him the fires of his rage, shaping the Infernal Wastes, a domain in Hell where endless storms rage and rivers of molten lava flow.”

Selene pointed to the statue’s base, where the carved depiction of a fiery battlefield was etched into the stone. “Satan’s realm is a place of eternal conflict. It is here that the souls of the wrathful are sent, condemned to fight endlessly against one another. The ground itself is a battlefield, littered with weapons and the cries of the damned. To stand in Satan’s presence is to feel the weight of anger in its purest form.”

Tom shivered. “What’s his power?”

“Satan’s power lies in his ability to manipulate wrath,” Selene said. “He can ignite fury in others, turning even the calmest soul into a raging beast. His strength is unmatched in combat, and his voice can stir armies to battle. But his greatest weapon is his presence. To face him is to confront your own anger, your own capacity for violence."

“Satan’s influence extends far beyond Hell,” Selene continued. “He is the driving force behind every war, every act of violence driven by anger. Whenever a human succumbs to rage and lashes out, they are touched by Satan’s essence. He does not tempt or deceive like Lucifer; he inflames, driving mortals to destroy.”

Jack frowned. “But is there any good in him? Anything left of the angel he was?”

Selene hesitated. “Perhaps. Samael was not created to be evil—he was created to protect. That purpose still resides within him, buried beneath the layers of anger and pain. Some say that his wrath is not entirely destructive—that it can be used to fight injustice, to challenge oppression. But it is a dangerous tool, one that often consumes those who wield it.”

Selene turned to the group, her expression solemn. “You must understand this: wrath is one of the most dangerous forces in existence. It is a fire that burns everything it touches, including the one who wields it. Satan is its master, but even he is not immune to its effects. To invoke his name, to seek his power, is to risk losing yourself to the flames.”

The group fell silent, the weight of Selene’s words sinking in. The statue of Satan seemed to loom larger, its eyes glowing faintly as if watching them.

Jack stared at the statue, feeling a mixture of fear and fascination. Satan was not just a figure of wrath—he was wrath incarnate, a being shaped by his anger and the consequences of his fall. The thought of encountering him, even indirectly, was enough to make Jack’s pulse quicken.

As they left the chamber, the echoes of Selene’s story lingered in their minds. Satan’s tale was a reminder of the destructive power of anger and the fine line between justice and vengeance.