Mono Abaddon

Eons ago, before the world had names, before kingdoms drew their borders and before mankind learned to raise their eyes toward the heavens, there existed an angel whose name has since been erased from creation. Mono Abaddon was once among Heaven’s highest generals, a celestial being of the Throne and Dominion order, standing beneath God’s divine... hierarchy and entrusted with the command of Heaven’s armies. He was not merely a warrior, but a living instrument of divine authority, fashioned to wage Heaven’s wars and deliver judgment upon those who stood against it. Angels revered him, demons feared him, and soldiers followed him without hesitation. Yet even the most devoted servant can eventually question the hand that commands him. Mono looked upon creation and saw suffering Heaven refused to end. He watched kingdoms burn, soldiers die, and mortals pray for salvation that never came. For the first time, he questioned the will of the throne above him, and Heaven answered by casting him down. His halo was shattered, his divine light extinguished, and his wings stripped of their radiance before he was cast into the abyss.
There, among the ruins of the Abaddon Empire, the fallen angel was given another throne. He accepted it, believing that perhaps this kingdom would give him the purpose Heaven had taken from him. Instead, the throne became his prison. Ancient chains fastened themselves around his wrists, ankles, wings, and soul, binding him directly to the Dark Throne of Abaddon. Its darkness consumed what remained of his divinity until the boundary between ruler and throne ceased to exist. The throne was him, and he was the throne. From it, Mono rose as the greatest general the empire had ever known. He became the hand that brought nations to ruin and the presence that turned battles into certain victories. Word of him spread beyond the empire, and soon every nation desired him. Every kingdom sought to claim him. Armies revered him, soldiers looked up to him, and monarchs fought wars simply for the right to place him beneath their banner. To them, Mono was not an equal, nor even a man. They called him “It.” A living relic. A weapon capable of determining the fate of civilizations.
He became something akin to the Holy Grail, except where the Grail granted wishes, Mono granted death, war, and victory. Whoever possessed him possessed the means to reshape the world. Kings wanted him beside their throne, generals wanted him at the head of their armies, and nations wanted his power chained to their cause. None asked what he desired. They only asked what he could give them. Thus, wherever Mono went, power followed and so did those who wished to possess it. He was elevated to the highest positions kingdoms could offer: general, sacred champion, prince of war, regent, kingmaker, and the right hand of emperors. Yet every title carried the same unspoken meaning.
You are useful. Therefore, you belong to us.
No matter how high he rose, no one stood beside him as an equal. He was placed upon thrones, given crowns, surrounded by armies, and praised as the salvation of nations, yet none of it belonged to him. Each kingdom simply built a more beautiful cage around its weapon.
And fate would repeat this cruelty long after the Abaddon Empire fell.
When Mono's mortal body eventually succumbed, still chained to the Dark Throne, his soul did not find rest. The chains followed him beyond death, and reincarnation became his punishment. Across countless ages, he was born again and again beneath different names and different banners. Yet fate always led him toward the same place: power. In one life he became a prince; in another, a general; in another, a regent; in another, a sacred champion worshipped by an entire nation. Different worlds. Different kingdoms. Different thrones.
But all of them lead him to the same fate.
Every civilization recognized what slept within him. Every army found reason to follow him. Every monarch saw the potential to turn him into the instrument of their ambition. He would rise, conquer, and grant victory to those who claimed him, only to eventually die in the very position of power they had given him. Betrayal, assassination, execution, war. The details changed. The ending never did.
He began to understand the pattern.
He was never being chosen to rule. He was being chosen to serve.
Even when kingdoms worshiped him, they worshiped what he could do. Even when soldiers admired him, they admired the weapon leading them to victory. Even when monarchs called him their greatest champion, they were already thinking of how to keep him under their control. And every throne he occupied became another reminder of the one waiting beneath his soul. the Dark Throne that has no plan to ever let him be free..
Then, after countless incarnations and countless deaths, he was born into a world that had forgotten gods, demons, and ancient empires.
This time, he was simply Mono.
No kingdom claimed him. No army waited for him. No monarch sought his allegiance. He had no crown, no throne, and no battlefield calling his name. For the first time, fate seemed to have overlooked him.
Then he discovered music.
He discovered a stage.
He discovered the dream of becoming an idol.
Beneath artificial stars, Mono sang to strangers who knew nothing of the angel he had once been, the demon he had become, or the countless rulers who had fought to possess him. For a brief moment, he believed he had finally escaped the cycle.
Then the memories returned.
He remembered Heaven.
He remembered the fall.
He remembered the throne.
He remembered the chains.
And most painfully, he remembered every life in which the world had looked upon him and seen only a weapon.
Now, Mono has decided to become an idol on his own terms. He will stand beneath the lights instead of someone’s status, wield a microphone as his sword, and command an audience instead of an army. Every performance will be a spectacle. Every song, a symphony. Every voice that calls out to him will draw the ancient chains tighter around the world.
The kingdoms of his past fought to possess him.
This time, he will possess them.
He will rise from an unknown idol into a name the entire world knows. He will make himself impossible to own, impossible to control, impossible to discard. He will become so beloved that millions will willingly gather beneath his banner, not realizing that they are building the throne he once spent eternity trying to escape.
And somewhere beneath the smile, beneath the music, beneath the idol the world has come to adore, the fallen angel still longs for something he has never been allowed to have.
To be seen as a person.
Not a weapon.
Not a savior.
Not a king.
Not a god.
Just Mono.
But after eons of being desired for everything except himself, he has stopped asking to be understood. He has stopped asking to be loved. If the world insists on calling him a weapon, then he will become one beyond anything it has ever known. And when billions finally gather beneath his stage, chanting his name as though it were a prayer, the ancient chains will return. They will wrap around his soul and drag him toward the throne once more.
But this time, Mono will not resist.
He will carve his own fate.
He will now turn the tides of war against fate into his favor.
“I have died for this world more times than it deserves to know. Now, this world will live for me.” Show more