God’s Best Soldier: Satan vs God

  Volume 1: The Soul That Shattered Heaven

  Chapter 1: The Final Day on Earth

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  The sun cast its golden light over Tokyo, kissing the edges of skyscrapers and winding alleys with a glow that promised nothing unusual. It was a beautiful, ordinary day—the kind of day that would be remembered only because someone’s story ended on it.

  Akira Yamada, seventeen, pressed his forehead against the cool window of the train. His reflection stared back—sleepy eyes, ruffled black hair, school uniform half-buttoned like always. He looked like every other kid riding to class that morning. Inside, though, he felt like a ghost.

  “Another day,” he muttered under his breath.

  A message popped up on his phone screen:

  [You forgot your lunch again. Don’t starve. Love, Mom.]

  He smirked. “Too late.”

  The train screeched to a halt at Shibuya Station. People poured out like blood from a wound. Akira moved with them, head down, thoughts swirling.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  He had no dreams. No ambitions. No real friends. Just a quiet ache in his chest every morning that never really went away.

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  Later that Day…

  School was a blur—lectures, chalk on boards, the distant laughter of people who seemed more alive than him.

  At lunch, Akira sat alone on the roof, legs dangling over the edge.

  He watched clouds drift by.

  “If I disappeared, would anything actually change?”

  That thought had haunted him for years, but he never dared say it aloud.

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  4:47 PM

  The sun began to dip below the skyline as Akira crossed the street, backpack slung lazily over one shoulder. A woman pushing a stroller waited beside him at the crosswalk. A boy clung to her leg, grinning at something on her phone.

  The light turned green.

  And then—

  Screams.

  A truck roared through the intersection, its driver unconscious, eyes rolled back. Metal thundered toward them, fast and merciless.

  Akira didn’t think. He moved.

  His legs carried him forward, arms outstretched. He grabbed the boy. Shoved the stroller.

  And then—

  Impact.

  Blackness.

  Silence.

  ?

  ???

  There was no pain.

  Only… light.

  Blinding. Endless. Radiating warmth and cold all at once.

  Akira floated. Or maybe he was falling upward. He wasn’t sure.

  Memories drifted past him like snow: childhood, laughter, loneliness, that quiet ache he never spoke of.

  Then—a voice. Clear, calm, impossible.

  “Akira Yamada. Your soul has been chosen.”

  His eyes opened. Or maybe they never closed.

  Before him stretched a city of glass and gold, floating on clouds of silver flame. Towers pierced an infinite sky, and wings—hundreds of them—flapped in silence above.

  Angels. Real angels.

  Heaven.

  “You’re not supposed to be here,” a voice said behind him.

  Akira turned.

  A man stood there in white armor, eyes glowing like suns. His wings were folded, his face unreadable.

  “And yet,” he continued, “you’ve been summoned.”

  “By who?” Akira asked, his voice hoarse.

  The angel knelt before him.

  “By God. Himself.”