Chapter Text
New Cover by Daniel.isbad on Instagram (my sister):
[-Chapter 6: Blood and Devils-]
“Thine Blood Shalt be offered to The Mother. Do not fret. It shall be painless…” – The Famous Words of The First Blood Hunter, and Leader of The Blood Hunters, Protesilaus, The Blade Of Blood. Rumour has it he yet lives in a backwater part of the Multiverse, farming potatoes and relaxing.
[Opening Song: Dance In The Game by ZAQ]
“Ya know, I should probably do this more often,” Jolyne thought as she walked down the sidewalk of the heavily densely populated city of the Shibuya District, hands in her pockets as she glanced at the various glowing billboards decorating the buildings above. Some of them were advertisem*nts for new upcoming Anime being released, like something called Parasyte: The Maxim.
There was another advertisem*nt about a group called Cherry Pop, with the lead singer being some girl named Sayaka Maizono, with the advert being about their latest album dropping. Not that Jolyne particularly cared, but the girl in the center of the ad, presumably Sayaka, was admittedly eye candy for her age demographic.
The hustle and bustle of Shibuya, while noisy, was weirdly comforting. She didn’t know why, but the idea of being surrounded by a lot of people gave her a feeling of safety. Which, given the fact that she was a superhuman by all definitions of the word, was ironic. She chalked it up to her simply not liking to feel exposed and alone.
It was why she decided to walk home instead of just teleport back. She wanted to stretch her legs and see the sights, just in case she did wind up going somewhere with Hajime at any point. The last thing she wanted was to look like a fool trying to take him somewhere or vice versa.
There was also the fact that she needed some time to unwind from what had happened at the school. Meeting and interacting with another person who was directly related to the Kuzuryu Clan was not something that she had expected to run into.
It reminded her back to when she first showed up here. When a little boy was killed by someone from The Kuzuryu Clan due to their inability to pay for their protection fee. She should’ve said something about that when she met Fuyuhiko, but given the current situation, and the tense atmosphere, that was probably not a good idea. It would’ve also told him that it was her who had killed that enforcer.
The last thing she wanted was to have to deal with an organized crime syndicate. Especially one as seemingly widespread as The Kuzuryu Clan. If someone from that clan was in the main course of Hope’s Peak Academy, then that went to show just how much power they had. Antagonizing them was a bad idea, even if she had inadvertently done so already.
Considering they hadn’t looked into the death, at least publicly, maybe she would be fine. But, given her recent luck, that probably wasn’t the case. If anything, she was probably screwed. Thankfully, she was lucky to not be able to spread DNA thanks to her unique status as a System User, so that bought her some time.
“Given it’s been a week, though, and considering they haven’t done anything about it, maybe they didn’t see the need to find out who killed the enforcer and assumed it was another rival Yakuza?” Jolyne pondered, her expression one of contemplation as she continued her walk through Shibuya. Her mini-map was telling her that she still had 30 minutes till she got back to her home, not that she was bothered by it.
It was getting dark out, though, and while she was curious about how the nightlife was in Shibuya, she didn’t really care for it right now. She was mentally exhausted from having detention and wanted to get home to have some kind of rest. Mono wasn’t a fan of her sleeping, but he could stuff it.
Just because she was a System User or whatever didn’t mean she couldn’t rest every once in a while. God forbid she needed some time to herself to unwind. Besides, despite having only been in Japan for a week, she’d have to say that she made some pretty good progress. Going from level 1 to level 11 in the span of a week was decent.
Right?
Although, speaking of spans of time, as she’d come to live in Japan, she noticed just how, quite frankly, bizarre some of the societal rules were and how lax others had been. According to “her” memories, when she first arrived in Japan, the only way “she” could’ve described it was like being in a whole new world.
She “remembered” how awkward it was when “she” tried to give someone a handshake, not knowing that wasn’t how greeting people worked. It took a couple of tries for “her” to finally remember that bowing was how someone greeted another person in Japan.
Then there was the whole last name-first name thing that threw “her” for a loop. Seriously, Brooks Jolyne did not roll off the tongue as well as Jolyne Brooks did. Especially with the whole “first name basis” thing signifying a deeper connection than just being strangers or acquaintances. Honorifics were also a whole thing that “she” had to get used to.
Japan, overall, was a massive culture shock to “her” when “she” first came here. But, thanks to her current situation, and thanks to her access to “her” memories, even if they were a little foggy at times, she was able to piece together “her” knowledge of the customs. Or, at least the basics of the customs, anyway.
For example, even though Loki made it so she could speak every kind of language there was, Jolyne learned that “she” knew how to speak Japanese due to “her” parents teaching “her” before “she” left. They were also the ones who had purchased “her” an apartment for “her” to live in. That was why she didn’t have to pay rent.
A part of her wondered how “her” parents were doing. According to “her” memories, they didn’t talk often once “she” made it to Japan. They kind of went no contact, actually. She couldn’t delve deeper into “her” memories to find answers, but if she had to guess, something probably came up for them to go no contact in the first place.
Aside from that, most of “her” memories were of “her” staying inside and playing Dark Souls, dying horribly to bosses, and eating instant ramen while getting a weekly allowance from “her” parents. Past a certain point, she stopped looking through those memories and instead tried to find the bigger ones. Like, for example, when “she” and Hajime would go to a specific café almost every other Saturday.
It was something that “they” cherished. “They” would share their school work with and help one another out. Bond over some of the stupidest stuff in the world like online threads and jokes that really didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, yet they still found notable to talk about. Laughing at funny images and other small things.
It was… comforting. But, also upsetting, especially given the circ*mstances. She wasn’t allowed to delve deeper than surface-level stuff. The more she thought about it, though, the more she realized that was more of a blessing than what she originally thought it was. If small stuff like this was causing her to feel bad, and considering how she had already figured out that “herself” and Hajime were close, then just how far deeper did the rabbit hole go?
She knew that “they” had a special kind of relationship, be it “them” having been previously dating or a friends-with-benefits scenario. But she didn’t know how deep that relationship was. Was it standard dating stuff or was it something more?
Honestly, she didn’t want to know anymore. She just wanted to move on and rekindle what was there, if that was even possible. A part of her, most likely a fragment of the old “her”, yearned to get back with Hajime.
If only she had the actual courage to do so.
Changing the subjects, if only slightly, thanks to her going deeper into her memories she was able to find out how “she” had met Hajime in the first place. They started as online friends after meeting on a game called “DOTA”, which was really just a Mod for Warcraft III back in 2010. His username had been HopesPeakAppreciator123. It was silly, but then again, “her” username had been XxBig_DragonxX, so she wasn’t one to talk.
They had met when “she” was 12 and he was 13, though only by a month or so. Then, when she moved to Japan in 2013 for her first year at Hopes Peak’s Reserve Course, they met up in person and immediately hit it off.
Which, again, made her feel more than a little self-conscious about what happened.
Jolyne sighed, keeping her head down as she frowned, pushing the thought away as she walked. “Think positively, damnit. Don’t be such a downer…” Jolyne thought, chewing on the inside of her lip, indecisiveness eating her up inside.
Maybe she should just be more forward with Hajime. Tell him how she feels, get it over with, and move on if he gets upset about it. Honestly, that would avoid the needless drama that would come from this whole dilemma she’d been feeling.
“What do you think, Mono?”
[I cannot compute proper emotional thinking. From a logical standpoint, however, you are five points away from reaching the “dating” stage with Hajime Hinata. Perhaps, in my humble opinion, you should push the matter. I predict positive—DANGER. WARNING, IMMINENT INVASION COMMENCING FROM BLOOD LETTER ANTHONY]
Jolyne’s head jolted upward so she could see in front of her as, slowly but surely, everyone faded from existence seemingly out of nowhere. Cars disappeared from the streets, as did people. As if picked up and moved out of the way. Panic began to settle deep within Jolyne’s chest as her sword manifested to her side, and the cape she had equipped appeared over her shoulders.
“Mono?! What’s going on!?”
[Brace yourself, Jolyne. We are being invaded. My connection is fading. Don’t die.]
And just like that, she felt Mono’s connection to her mind be ripped away, and she was left in silence. Her heart pounded harder against her chest as sweat began to build up on her forehead. “Invaded? By who? What? Who’s Anthony?! What’s going on?!” Unfortunately, she wasn’t given any answers as to who or what Anthony was. All she knew was that something was happening, and it carried the threat of her dying.
Just as that thought ended a small, ungulating pool of blood formed across from her seemingly out of nothingness. As it formed, a figure began to slowly rise from it, coated in a thin layer of blood that slowly began to drip off of it.
The figure was tall, easily two heads taller than her and was dressed in a black leather long-sleeved trench coat, with buckles dangling from the inner rim of the trench coat. Underneath the trench coat, there was a set of faded chainmail chest plates coated in blood, a pair of faded black jeans and spiked boots, with the outfit being completed by a large-brimmed top hat, and their eyes gleamed with crimson bloodlust. Their expression was twisted into that of a predatory grim, as their pale skin radiated in the sunlight.
A health bar appeared above his head, along with his level, which made Jolyne’s heart plummet. At first, she thought that maybe she could have potentially a slight advantage due to levels against whoever this Anthony guy was, but that was quickly dashed as soon as she saw what his level was. While Jolyne was level 11, this guy was six levels above that, marking him at level 17.
A small, hoarse cackle escaped his cracked lips, as he hoisted what appeared to be a spear out from thin air.
The spear was long, with blood staining the cold metal tip. The shaft of the spear was chipped and broken, which would’ve shown how weak it was, had it not been for the human bones being used as supports for the weapon, mixed with metal plating.
Fear filled her body as Jolyne took a step back. “Holy sh*t! f*ck, Jolyne, think!” She didn’t know what the hell was going on. Was this an NPC or another System User? Given his stature and the pure aura he radiated, she was willing to bet on the latter. Her hands trembled as she gripped her sword as if it was her lifeline. “Maybe I can defuse the situation? If he’s a System User, then maybe this won’t end horribly?”
“Uh… hello?” Jolyne said, nervously as Anthony chuckled, an air of elegance yet also disinterest attached to it as Jolyne swallowed the lump of fear building up in her throat.
“Good morning, ma’am. Terribly sorry to ruin your evening, but I am low on my quota for the day. So, therefore, you must die. If it means anything, your blood will taste delicious,” and without any warning, Anthony lunged at her. Jolyne was hardly given enough time to block the thrust of the man’s spear with her sword, metal scraping against metal as it made a horrible shrieking sound.
Jolyne stumbled to the side, trying to orientate herself as Anthony used her confusion and general unpreparedness to thrust his spear again at her, this time the spear making contact. The spear just barely missed impaling her, instead tearing through her school blazer and ripping a chunk of skin off of her midsection.
Jolyne bit back the urge to scream in pain, as a meter appeared in her peripheral vision. Something called Blood Loss filled up to 50 out of 100. She didn’t know what that was, nor did she care. What she cared about was her HP having gone from 600 to 520 in one strike. That was accounting for the damage reduction given to her by the cape, which wasn’t much all things considered.
“80 damage in one go?! Are you kidding me?!” Jolyne thought, as her panicked eyes set on Anthony, who licked the tip of his spear, the gleam in his eyes increasing as she felt her blood boil with anger. This bastard was taunting her!
In a fit of rage, she lunged at and slashed at Anthony with her sword in an attempt to hit him, not that it helped much as he slapped her sword away from him, and used her brief stunned anxiety to properly impale her through her chest. He lodged his spear right between her breasts, before promptly ripping the spear out as blood cascaded out, Blood Loss activating, and draining her HP from 520 down to 280.
Jolyne was flung back to the ground as she screamed in pain Anthony chuckled, stalking over to her like a lion to a downed zebra. “You know, I was expecting something a little more… I don’t know, challenging when I found you,” Anthony said, his tone sickly sweet as he once again licked the blood off of his spear. “Oh well. All this means for me is a great boon from The Mother. We haven’t killed one of your kind in a long time. That’s to say, a System User of your calibre.”
As Anthony loomed over her, he raised his spear above her and went to bring down his spear to impale her again, seemingly aiming for her throat. But Jolyne wasn’t going to go down that easily. She didn’t want to die, and sure as sh*t wasn’t going to be to this creep!
Jolyne hissed and lunged forward, grabbing Anthony by the collar and briefly shocking him, prompting him to hiss in surprise. She used his brief shock to shove her sword between his eyes, before ripping the blade out and quickly slashing him diagonally across the chest all the while shoving him back a few feet.
He hollered in pain, his HP dropping to half as he growled. Confusion mixed with fear coated her mind as she stared with wide eyes. “That didn’t kill him?!” Jolyne thought, narrowing her eyes. “Well, that confirms that he isn’t an NPC… but if that’s the case… f*ck!” As Jolyne thought that, panic and fear settling in even more than before, Anthony cackled.
“My, my! Maybe I had you wrong after all!” Anthony hollered, wiping the blood off of his head as the large wound in between his eyes pulsated. It looked disgusting, and it made Jolyne want to puke. Then again, she also had a small spear-sized hole going through her chest, along with a large gash across her midsection. She probably didn’t look any better than he did.
Although, noticeably, neither of them was passively regenerating. That meant that combat between two System Users was more dangerous than against NPC enemies. They couldn’t regenerate wounds, making clashing between two System Users extremely dangerous.
“Let’s have some fun!” Anthony shouted, before spinning his spear around and slamming it into the ground. “Try this on for size!” As he said that, he pushed his spear into the ground, and as he did, the world itself seemed to bleed as a wave of blood came out and flooded toward her like a rushing river.
Jolyne panicked, dive-rolling out of the way of the wave of blood, and only barely blocking the follow-up thrust with her sword, metal clashing against metal as Anthony continued to laugh. For the next few seconds, she kept blocking each thrust of his with her sword, all the while trying to figure out a way to end this here and now.
As it stood, she and Anthony seemed to be at the same point health-wise, but considering he was six levels ahead of her in terms of raw power, meaning that he definitely had more HP than she did. By how much, she didn’t know. However, seeing as her HP went up by 50 every time she levelled up, and with 6 x 50 being 300, that meant he had 300 more HP than her. In other words, if she wasn’t careful, she could die in the next two hits, and he’d be fine.
Seeing as this wasn’t a dungeon, and that she was actually in a fight, she couldn’t afford to mess up here. She first thought to use Blood Drinker to heal a little bit, but considering her thirst meter was at 80 out of 100, and seeing how that would probably make her “Overfed” again, she elected not to, even if it was a stupid choice.
“Think, Jolyne, think! One wrong move and you’re dead!” Jolyne thought as the sound of metal clashing against metal filled her ears. With each thrust of his spear, Jolyne met it with a block with the blunt side of her sword, feeling the pushback with each thrust.
She couldn’t keep this up for much longer. Just by looking at her Stamina meter, she could tell that at some point, he was going to get a shot in, and there was nothing that she could do about it. What made things worse was that each of his movements was done in such a way that it left no room for an opening.
If she wanted to hit him, she would need to risk getting hit. Unlike Anthony, Jolyne couldn’t risk that. He did too much damage to her for that to be a possibility. She needed to play on the defensive, either until he tired out, or until he made a mistake.
But, as her stamina meter continued to be chipped away, and as she felt her body grow more and more sluggish with each block she made, it became more and more clear to her that she couldn’t keep up with him for much longer.
The two exchanged one more attack, with her sword blocking his thrust for the last time, as her defence was blown wide open, causing her to stagger backward. Her eyes widened with fear, whereas his widened with bated excitement, his teeth flashing for just a moment, revealing two rows of fangs, like that of a beast.
Before Jolyne could do anything, Anthony grabbed her shoulder and threw her to the ground, the impact hurting slightly as her HP dropped lower than 150. Panic set in as his eyes gleamed dangerously.
No…
No!
“NO!”
She was going to die. She didn’t want to die, especially not this early. “Well, it’s been fun~!” Anthony said, his tone playful as he raised his spear to aim just between her eyes. “I’d say see ya around, but that would be a lie~! Oh, Mother, I grant ye a proper sacrifice! The blood of someone whom The Greater Will shines down upon~!”
Jolyne shut her eyes. This was it. She was going to die, and there was nothing she could do about it. Only a week into her new life, and she was already going to die.
At least, she thought so, anyway.
A gasping, gurgling sound filled her ears, as Jolyne slowly opened her eyes and she looked up at Anthony, who now had a lance shoved through his chest, with his HP dropping to nothing. The blade itself was elegantly made and had a rainbow glow to it.
Someone who was of equal height stood behind him, and while she couldn’t make out all the details, the most prominent one was that her saviour had long white hair that reached down to the person’s hips. They also had a hue of golden light around them, though she didn’t know what that meant.
A message appeared in her peripheral vision that said “Help request answered.” She didn’t remember calling for help, but she was grateful for it regardless. Her saviour tore their blade out of Anthony’s body diagonally, prompting him to fall to the ground with a meaty thud as blood began to pool around him.
Jolyne’s attention was completely focused on Anthony, as his body began to fade away into dust. “T-That’s… not… fair… I had… no idea… someone like you…” Before he could finish, his body was turned to ash—reduced to whisps as a notification appeared in front of her that read “Blood Hunter Defeated” in big, bold, golden letters. Alongside that, another notification appeared, this one being a loot drop of sorts, kind of like what she would receive in a dungeon.
[Weapon Art – Blood Wave (Uncommon)]
[Ability: Thrust your sword into the ground, and wrench up a wave of tainted blood. Applies 80 Bleed Build up upon making contact. Costs 25 Mana to use, with a three-second cooldown in between uses]
[Description: An ancient weapon art passed down from experienced Blood Hunters down to novice ones. A great starting Weapon Art for someone without much combat experience. Invented by Protesilaus as a means to increase his arsenal during The Hunt. It uses the tainted blood of The Mother to call upon a brutal and powerful wave of blasphemous magic tainted with the maddening blood.]
*Weapon Arts can be applied within the menu, but if you wish to give it a special affinity, you will have to travel to The Roundtable Hold*
[+5 blasphemy stat tokens]
As Jolyne’s wounds began to heal, and as her HP began to replenish, she watched as her saviour turned their back to her as they faded away. But as they left, they looked over their shoulder as a singular ruby-red eye gleamed in the light and spoke with a voice so soft and elegant that Jolyne could’ve sworn she was speaking to royalty. “You’re lucky I was nearby. Don’t count on my assistance again.”
And soon after her saviour finished speaking, everything returned to normal, and she was back to standing on the sidewalk. Reality set in as she looked down at her body, and saw that… there was no damage. No tears in her uniform, and neither were there any blood stains. It was almost like she was taken out of time and placed in a space where the effects of combat stayed there.
Slowly, the panic in her chest began to fade away, but that didn’t stop her from feeling weak. From feeling helpless. She could’ve—no, she would’ve died had that person not stepped in when they had.
She needed to get stronger.
Before she could do anything, she was suddenly teleported back into her apartment. She stumbled forward, landing on her couch, and when she did, she could hear Mono saying her name over and over again. She tapped the side of her head, answering her System.
“Mono?! What happened?!”
[Our connection was severed. It happens whenever you get invaded. I was worried. I feared the worst. Neither I nor Loki could reach you, and we both thought you had died. I’m glad you’re safe.]
Jolyne breathed out a sigh of relief, sitting up straight as she ran a hand through her hair. She never wanted to experience anything like that again. Especially given how close she came to death. Meaning she knew what she had to do.
She needed to get stronger.
“Mono, for the next week, I’m going to feign being sick and we’re going to go on back-to-back Dungeon runs. I need to get stronger. I refuse to get bitched like that again.”
[Good. I would say we should begin now, but after what happened, I doubt you’re in the mood to do much of anything.]
“Yeah…” As Jolyne thought that, she pulled out her sword, and then the Weapon Art that she got after her encounter with Anthony. It appeared as a red ball dripping with blood, and it had a haunting green glow surrounding it.
It was labelled as uncommon and underneath it, there were what appeared to be stat requirements for it. It needed 20 Blasphemy and 20 Arcane Wisdom, and while she had 15 Blasphemy, she just so happened to have 5 Blasphemy tokens…
She took out the tokens after putting the Weapon Art away, and used all five of them, bringing her to meet the requirements for the Weapon Art. She brought the Weapon Art out again and brought the red orb containing it and pressed it against the sword as a menu appeared in front of her.
[Give (Straightsword – Common +2) Blood Wave (Uncommon)?]
[Scaling Changes: Physical Strength: E-, Arcane: D-, Blasphemy: D-]
[Blood Loss Build-Up Added (33 build-up per swing)
[Y/N]
She pressed [Y] and as soon as she did, the red orb melted into the sword, and for a brief second, the sword glowed with an ominous red hue, before dying down, and returning back to normal. The sword became way lighter than before, and she felt a deeper connection to it. That probably had to do with the fact that it now had to scale with Arcane and Blasphemy, the two things a Voidbringer was close to, and also the two requirement stats that were the highest.
She stood up, swinging her sword once or twice. A red trail followed the blade wherever it went, with a hint of blue mixed in that sparkled and intertwined with the red trail. “Neat,” Jolyne said, before putting the sword back into her inventory.
Just then, she received an audio message from someone. It was marked as “Anonymous”, as was the location from where it was sent from. Jolyne raised an eyebrow and went to dismiss it, only for the message to automatically play. Once it did, a deep, hoarse voice came out from the other side.
“I formally welcome you to The Dreadknights. Apologies for taking as long as I did to reach out to you. We will get acquainted soon enough, so I’ll save introductions for then. Speaking of, on August 30th, which is a week and a half from now, my Boss, and your master, will want to speak with you to give you your first contract. Do not forget.”
The voice message disappeared, and when it did, Jolyne with left in confusion standing in the center of her living room, blinking several times.
“Mono… what just happened?”
[We shall both see soon enough. For now, you should go get some rest. I will be waking you up bright and early. If you wish to be stronger, then you will be going non-stop until you have reached, at least, level 15 though it would be preferable if you went higher than that.]
“Great…” Jolyne thought, sighing. She shouldn’t have sounded so annoyed. She wanted this—no. She needed this. She had been taking this System User thing for granted. If she could be invaded at any point, she needed to get strong enough to where that wasn’t a problem.
She would get stronger.
No matter the cost.
Before she went to get some rest, she grabbed her phone from her inventory, and texted Hajime, telling him that she wasn’t feeling well and that she’d talk to him at a later date. He responded with a simple “OK” prompting Jolyne to go to bed.
Next week was going to be tough. But that was okay because it was better to have a tough week than a difficult existence.
[XXXX]
It can be often said that Hell is a place of pure suffering. At least, when quoting mortals. That in Hell, there is nothing but fire and brimstone awaiting them. Only jagged surfaces and unbearable heat were left for those who betrayed and or turned their back on God.
So, when the reality of the situation was that Hell had actually been made up of seven various circles, each of which with bustling, urban cities filled to the brim with Hellspawn and Sinners alike, one would find themselves a bit shocked. Especially if they had been raised to believe that The Bible, for as outdated as it was, was nothing but true.
It would then also shock them that Lucifer and Satan were also two separate individuals and not the same. It would then further shock someone who had grown up a devoted Christian yet still somehow managed to f*ck up in a way where they were sent to hell, that Lucifer was not some bipedal goat monster, but rather something else entirely.
Lucifer Morningstar was a slender, young-looking man, around about in his mid-twenties to early thirties, with pale white skin with pale red cheeks. His hair was blonde and slicked back, which gave him the appearance of a mob boss from the 30s.
He was dressed in a red and pink striped waistcoat with golden buttons and a pure white long-sleeve shirt underneath, followed up with a pair of black jeans that had suspenders connected to them. His eyes gleamed red, and instead of the typical white sclera, Lucifer’s was a sickly shade of yellow.
Currently, he sat at a desk with heaps and heaps of paperwork, the end of his fountain pen tapping against his cheek as he read over a recent contract while a rubber duck idly sat on his desk with his free hand resting on it. An exhausted sigh escaped his lips as he leaned back in his big red leather throne-chair-thing, giving the rubber duck a cathartic squeeze, forcing all the air out of it as his head rested against his throne-chair-thingie.
Ever since Lilith left and vanished seven years ago, life grew to suck. It wasn’t even the fact that she left that was bothering him. It was the fact that she left without warning or saying anything or a kiss goodbye. One day, she was there, and the next she wasn’t. He searched up and down Hell from Pride to Sloth he couldn’t find her.
The other Sins even pitched in to try and find her, but no matter how far they looked, none of them found anything. Not even a single hair. He even spoke to his father and asked him to check Heaven on the off chance she somehow made it up there. He doubted as such, seeing as he would’ve known, and considering he couldn’t lie, when he said that she wasn’t there, his heart shattered.
That only could’ve meant two things. One, and the better off of the two, she somehow died, or two, and the worse of the options, one of The Outer Gods snatched her up for their own purposes, meaning that there was nothing he or his father could do about it.
There were two unspoken rules of The Multiverse. The first was to never speak The Fallen One’s name—a title he used to hold until The Incident—and the second was to never intervene when an Outer God wanted to do something, otherwise there was a good chance that you could be wiped from existence across all timelines, The Greater Will especially.
If that was all that had been bothering them—which don’t get him wrong, that was already a lot as it was—the looming threat of The Shadow and the Dead Multiverse slowly breaking out of its prison was eating away at him.
It had already been 2 million years since it was sealed, which was 2 weeks mortal time. While there was still plenty of time left on the clock, that didn’t take away from the fact that, compared to previous cycles, they only had 50 Billion Years to work with rather than the usual 500 Billion.
“Get a grip, me. You’re better than this, set yourself straight, Father Damnit!” Lucifer said, sitting up straight in his chair as he rubbed at his eyes. He desperately needed a nap if he was going to get through all of this paperwork.
Standing up from where he was sitting, Lucifer stretched as he looked over his office. It was a rather cozy-looking room with a velvet woolly carpet, charcoal black walls with red stripes going horizontally through the paint, and a chandelier dangling on the ceiling above. The desk he had sat at was made entirely out of Cherry Blossom tree wood giving it a reddish-brown colour.
The door connecting his office to the rest of his abode, that being the rest of the palace, was made of the same wood, and next to it was his signature cane with a golden apple ornament affixed to the top. His second greatest sin, and his most prized achievement. Getting both Lilith and Eve to consume the fruit of forbidden knowledge.
Unfortunately, that had been the catalyst for The Incident.
For as much as Father blamed himself for The Incident, Lucifer was just as much to blame as he. Unlike his Father, who was all-seeing, all-knowing, and all-listening and knew that something horrible was going to come, and to what extent said horrible thing was, Lucifer did not. Yet, all of the Archangels in Heaven, his brothers and sisters, viewed him as solely responsible for what happened.
It wasn’t fair, but then again, there was nothing he could’ve done about it. He was already a traitor and a sinner. What’s another sin to add to his already long list of sins? He was Lucifer Morningstar, King of Hell, Traitor to Heaven, Lord of Blasphemy, yadda yadda.
If his reputation wasn’t going to change, then why try and make it change?
Lucifer grabbed his cane and exited his office, white walls with gilded windows surrounding him on every side as he walked down the red-carpeted floors of his palace. Today was Extermination Day, led by Lute and Archangel Sariel to cleanse Hell, or at least The Pride Ring, of Sinners.
Originally, when Extermination Day first began, and when The Fallen One was in charge of it, those who died were erased from existence. But, with Sariel in charge, they were reborn into humans once more after they died, giving them a second chance to become Pure. It was a better fate, but still a painful one.
Being killed by a Holy Weapon in hell stripped one of their memories and originality before being spat back out into the great unknown to various Earths to live once more. But, hey, at least it was better than being erased!
Not that he particularly cared about the sinners, but still! At least he could care a little less now, right?
Charlie didn’t seem to think so, though. Hence why she made her Hotel—Happy Hotel, or something along those lines. Honestly, Lucifer didn’t really care what it was she was doing, only that she was happy doing it. Although, they hadn’t spoken in a while—seven years, ironically enough.
As Lucifer rounded the corner of the hallway and passed through a wide pre-opened doorway where goat-headed butlers kept the large cherry wood double doors open, he walked into one of the many lounges in the palace. This lounge was larger than the rest of them, with three large couches that could comfortably seat eight people each, a large four-sided TV cube hung in the center, underneath which was a fireplace that burned forever more with Hellfire, keeping the room nice and toasty.
The floors were stone rather than wood or carpet, that way the Hellfire didn’t accidentally burn anything down. There was a bar in the back corner, manned by his favourite butler, Belial, who unlike the rest of his goat-headed staff had the head of a raven with deep red eyes. Like the rest of his staff, he was dressed in a black tuxedo with a crimson red and black striped tie, and his beak was dipped in gold.
“Master Morningstar. Care for a drink?” Belial questioned, his voice carrying a slight British accent, which was something that Beleezabub had pointed out the last time she had been here. Which, now that he thought about it, had been over 60 Million Years ago.
Maybe he should visit her circle of hell next time he left the palace? It would probably be a welcome surprise, that much he guessed.
“Nah, I’m fine. But thanks, Belial!” Lucifer replied, his tone chipper as Belial bowed slightly, before clapping his wing-like hands together to turn on the Televisions, while at the same time, Lucifer sat down on one of the couches, crossing one leg over the other as he scratched underneath his nose. The channel that came on was the news, and instead of Katie Killjoy—the pretentious bitch who dared to mock his daughter on live TV—someone else sat at the news desk with a wild grin.
The person in question was a demon with cedar-brown skin and two very noticeable desire-red pigtails with navy blue undertones. Their hair had a white swirled streak going through it, which gave it an extra pop. They had white eyes with slit pupils and red sclera, which indicated them as an Overlord. They had on very heavy burgundy eyeshadow on their eyelids and thick, charcoal-black lipstick.
The way they sat at the news desk was uncaring and relaxed, with both of their legs kicked up, one over the other as they reclined in the chair. Their outfit was striking and popped like the rest of their outfit—fitting for an Overlord. They had a pair of skull earrings, a sleeveless dark navy-blue coat with burgundy lining with two desire hearts on the left side of the fur collar.
Underneath the coat, they wore a black turtleneck crop top that had two desire hearts over their chest, accompanied by a pair of what appeared to be loose navy blue and desire-red striped pants held up by a navy belt with a heart-shaped white buckle.
“Yo, Belial, who’s that?” Lucifer asked, tilting his head. He might’ve been the King of Hell, but he didn’t necessarily pay attention to the names of any Overlord, let alone other sinners. Overlords constantly changed every other handful of years and he frankly didn’t care for their politics. He kept that task to his servants.
“That, my liege, is Velvette. She is a new Overlord, at least, in terms of the others, and works alongside Vox and Valentino together in a group known as The Vees,” Belial replied as Lucifer hummed in acknowledgement.
“Gotcha.”
“Sup, name’s Velvette, get to know it or ya gonna get a headache because you’ll be seeing me everywhere from here on out for your news broadcast! Exorcism day just finished and we’re counting at least three million of sinners dead and wasted! Numbers are still counting but who gives a sh*t. They’ll be back sooner or later. You can’t rehab a sinner, even if you magically give them a new life!”
Lucifer listened for a few seconds longer before clapping his head, switching the channels to an extreme sports channel. This one involved having a Baron of Hell chasing down a hapless family of Imps for a chance to win a mansion in Greed. Honestly, he didn’t know how Mamon came up with these sorts of things, but they were hilarious.
A relaxed sigh escaped Lucifer as he felt his muscles destress from a long day of sorting through paperwork regarding the various sinners and their sins, as well as damages caused during the various exorcist raids on Pride and the costs Heaven would have to cover for damages.
Suddenly, a beam of holy light appeared out of nowhere, prompting Lucifer to sit up straight. A pale-skinned, thin man with red hair and red cheeks similar to Lucifers stood, dressed in a white gown with large sleeves, hiding the man’s hands. A halo hovered over his head, and his eyes radiated a bright blue with cyan sclera.
“Sariel, little bro, what’s up?” Lucifer said, his tone filled with faux joy as Sariel smiled honestly. Joy emanated from the Archangel, despite being in Lucifer’s home. Unlike the rest of the Archangel, Sariel didn’t utterly loathe Lucifer. Sure, they heavily disagreed on several things, but Sariel was at least tolerant of Lucifer and still proud to call him his brother.
“Brother Samael. Tis been a long while,” Sariel said, causing Lucifer to wince. Right. Sariel still called him by his holy name. After all, while Sariel didn’t mind Lucifer, he refused to call him by the name he preferred. “I have received word from Father to pay you a visit in person. He wishes to relay a message.”
“Oh?” Lucifer was curious. It wasn’t often he sent someone else to speak on his behalf when it came to him. That must’ve meant it was something that made him rather emotional. Father hated being emotional in front of Lucifer. He had a nasty habit of picking on him for it.
“From the words of Father: “Come to The Grand Hall when you have the chance. My son has returned from his voyage and has much to share. He brings news about Lilith.” That is all.”
Lucifer’s eyes widened, launching to his feet with a mix of worry and fear, and just before he could say even so much as “Wait” Sariel disappeared in a beam of holy light. Lucifer stood, confused and with a sense of hope stirring his heart. A soft chuckle brushed past his lips as he closed his eyes, faint tears bubbling to the surface.
Seldom did he ever invoke the name of his Father’s true-born Demi-God son, but he thanked Jesus for once in his eternal life. He just hoped that news was good news and not bad news. Though considering it was Jesus, he banked on it being good news.
Though, he wondered where it was that Jesus had wandered off to. He rarely if ever left Heaven. But then again, Lucifer never really stuck his nose in politics of any kind. Chances were he was on Earth Zero observing the humans there in secret. He had heard that the humans there who preached the word of God had been becoming increasingly less Christ-like.
Ironic, given how it was the loudest preachers that were the worst people. He had a couple of popes down here and well over a couple hundred pastors. He kept a special count of those and often forced them to become his butlers, just to rub the salt in the wound.
A few seconds later, just as Lucifer was about to sit down, a deep voice clearing its throat rumbled throughout the lounge, catching Lucifer’s attention. The person whose voice it belonged to was a large, fifteen-foot tall Demon with charcoal black skin, long, upturned red horns that circled his head in a mockery of a halo, and chilling orange eyes with black sclera.
He was shirtless and rippled with muscle, with his legs being entirely goat-like in appearance down to the brown fur and hooves. He sported large black leathery wings and slit pupils. His expression was one of neutrality, and with his arms crossed across his chest, he looked almost impatient. In truth, Satan was anything but.
“Ah! Satan, what brings you here?”
“I’ve come to report a new member of The Dreadknights,” Satan rumbled, his voice baritone with a hint of a Russian accent. He was probably hanging around Paimon recently. The two were drinking pals, so it didn’t really surprise Lucifer.
“I thought I told you to not do that anymore,” Lucifer said as Satan huffed.
“You did. However, this one is special.”
“How so?” Lucifer questioned as Satan cracked a grin. That… was never good.
“One word: Loki.”
“Oh,” Lucifer thought, a wide, devious smile spreading across his face. Never, in the recorded history of The Seven existing, had any member picked the option to become a Dreadknight. The Watchers were instructed to persuade them not to by Father to do so. But seeing as Father had no say in this batch, a part of him hoped that it would happen.
Lo-and-behold, his wish came true, and it just so happened to be the one who served under the God of Mischief.
“Set up a meeting between myself, Loki, and his Patron for the 30th of August on the world she’s on. I have a special request for them, and the perfect means to test her. There’s a certain soul there that made a contract that needs to be collected,” Lucifer said as Satan bowed.
“As you wish, my liege,” and in a splendid pillar of Hellfire, Satan vanished, most likely back to the Wrath circle. This was almost too perfect, but it worked out entirely in his favour. Now with a member of the Seven under his thumb, he had some actual leverage to get his say involved with the workers of The Multiverse.
Finally, he would have a say in matters that his siblings refused to give him the time of day to speak about.
But that was for the feast at The Grand Hall. Right now, however, he had a contract to finally collect. A contract for unmatched skill in combat and the inability to be harmed by the hands of a mortal. For years, the contract had gone uncollected, mostly because the person who made the contract had been forced to and was a child—something that Lucifer had a special policy about.
But, they sided with it.
That was the only thing that he objected to, aside from The Shadow. He viewed siding with it as a breaking of the contract, which would’ve typically lasted another decade. But now, he had a soul to collect.
The soul of one Mukuro Ikusaba.
[-To Be Continued-]
[Ending Song: Outsider by – Eve]
