A Benoni Among the Shadows
Osmo's Inferno
Coming Soon – Between the Cracks in Time
“This is the devil speaking. My name is Osmo – short for Asmodeus, if you're feeling formal. But you can call me Osmo. As in Osmosis. Everyone else does. I was asked to write this introduction by the Almighty himself. Ironic, I know. But trust me, things only get weirder from here.”
In the year 3001 — or what used to be called 3001, before humanity stopped counting time by the birthday of a failed Roman empire and started measuring it from the Big Bang — everything fell apart.
God had seen enough.
Humanity had taken over the job of destroying itself. My job. I, who once was the adversary, the accuser, the tempter, the whisperer in the dark — found myself suddenly unemployed. Redundant. Retired without ceremony. My role eliminated not because I failed, but because I was too good at it.
But when you remove Satan from the equation, balance breaks. And even the Almighty knows: every system needs its tension, its opposition, its mirror. So instead of annihilating me, He gave me a mission.
Find the 36. The Lamed-Vavniks. The hidden righteous whose souls still shine under the rubble of a ruined age. He gave me back Cain and Abel — reborn as neurodivergent twins, forgotten even to themselves. Now the greatest hackers the world has ever known, hiding in plain sight.
In the Garden amongst the other Benoni, Abel now known only as Cowboy — a deadly warrior with a face of every nation and the memory of none. And Cain? Now conceives of himself as Andrew Jackson, the only memory he has of himself.
Together, we set out to find the rest.
You might think I, the Devil were able to guide Cain and Abel to the other 34, but no. The hacking skills of this generation elude even me. Only the Cowboy and the deceased President can do it. My job is to motivate them. To seduce them, if need be.
This isn’t just a story. It’s a warning. A confession. A guidebook. A love letter from the abyss.
And yes — even in your time, decades or centuries before the end, you still have a choice.
The book will be born in the Three Weeks, between the broken walls of the 17th of Tammuz and the ruins of Tisha B’Av — because that’s when truth hides in the shadows, waiting to be revealed.
Keep your eyes open.
The devil’s not done yet.
“This is the devil speaking. My name is Osmo – short for Asmodeus, if you're feeling formal. But you can call me Osmo. As in Osmosis. Everyone else does. I was asked to write this introduction by the Almighty himself. Ironic, I know. But trust me, things only get weirder from here.”
In the year 3001 — or what used to be called 3001, before humanity stopped counting time by the birthday of a failed Roman empire and started measuring it from the Big Bang — everything fell apart.
God had seen enough.
Humanity had taken over the job of destroying itself. My job. I, who once was the adversary, the accuser, the tempter, the whisperer in the dark — found myself suddenly unemployed. Redundant. Retired without ceremony. My role eliminated not because I failed, but because I was too good at it.
But when you remove Satan from the equation, balance breaks. And even the Almighty knows: every system needs its tension, its opposition, its mirror. So instead of annihilating me, He gave me a mission.
Find the 36. The Lamed-Vavniks. The hidden righteous whose souls still shine under the rubble of a ruined age. He gave me back Cain and Abel — reborn as neurodivergent twins, forgotten even to themselves. Now the greatest hackers the world has ever known, hiding in plain sight.
In the Garden amongst the other Benoni, Abel now known only as Cowboy — a deadly warrior with a face of every nation and the memory of none. And Cain? Now conceives of himself as Andrew Jackson, the only memory he has of himself.
Together, we set out to find the rest.
You might think I, the Devil were able to guide Cain and Abel to the other 34, but no. The hacking skills of this generation elude even me. Only the Cowboy and the deceased President can do it. My job is to motivate them. To seduce them, if need be.
This isn’t just a story. It’s a warning. A confession. A guidebook. A love letter from the abyss.
And yes — even in your time, decades or centuries before the end, you still have a choice.
The book will be born in the Three Weeks, between the broken walls of the 17th of Tammuz and the ruins of Tisha B’Av — because that’s when truth hides in the shadows, waiting to be revealed.
Keep your eyes open.
The devil’s not done yet.