Chapter 4: The King is Born

  A thousand years passed.

  Deep within the Forest of Slaughter, a lone man sat atop the corpse of a massive beast, calmly eating its flesh. When he finished, he tossed the bone aside and rose to his feet.

  From his back unfurled a pair of massive wings—black with streaks of crimson pulsing through the feathers like veins of living fire. Without a word, he launched himself into the sky and soared north.

  He flew until he reached the farthest point of the Demon Realm—the territory of the Demon King. There, he descended, landing before an ancient, crumbling gate that radiated a pressure strong enough to crush weaker demons.

  As he approached the gate, he noticed a creature lying motionless in front of it. The creature’s eyes slowly opened, three pairs of pupils reflecting a cold, predatory gleam.

  It stood up, each of its three heads rising to full height. The man recognized it immediately—Cerberus, the Gatekeeper of Hell.

  Cerberus growled, a low, rumbling sound that shook dust from the surrounding stones. Still, the man walked forward without slowing, without fear.

  He stopped directly in front of the beast.

  Three heads glared down at him. Six eyes focused on him with primal hostility.

  The man met their gaze without blinking—calm, steady, unbothered.

  Cerberus roared at the man, but he didn’t react. The beast’s three heads studied him for a moment, then the growling faded. Cerberus slowly lay back down, granting him passage. It wasn’t obedience… it was recognition. A deep, instinctive sense of familiarity that even the gatekeeper of Hell couldn’t ignore.

  The man walked the long path toward the castle. Before he reached the main structure, a massive tiger lunged out of the shadows and slid to a stop in front of him. Fangs bared, muscles tensed—yet the man kept walking, completely unbothered.

  The tiger stared into his eyes.

  It felt it too.

  That same ancient familiarity.

  The beast slowly lowered its head in submission.

  The man brushed a hand over its fur and spoke its name:

  “Sabertooth.”

  Then he continued onward.

  He reached the colossal doors of the Demon King’s castle. With a single push, he opened them and stepped inside. The doors slammed shut behind him, and darkness swallowed the passageway.

  He walked in silence until he reached a bridge suspended over an abyss. At the far end stood a golden pyramid radiating an intense, oppressive presence.

  As he approached it, a gigantic serpent rose from behind the structure, its voice echoing across the chasm.

  “What do you hope to gain by coming here?”

  The man stopped, eyes calm and unwavering.

  “Power.”

  The serpent lowered its massive head, granting him permission to pass.

  Inside the golden pyramid, the man found a teleportation circle inscribed at its center. The moment he stepped onto it, the runes lit up beneath his feet—then the world blinked out.

  When his vision returned, he stood before an enormous door. Without being touched, it groaned open on its own, revealing what lay within.

  The Demon King’s throne room.

  He entered. The doors slammed shut behind him with a thunderous echo that rolled through the empty hall. Torches lining the walls ignited with black fire, illuminating a long path toward the single object he sought.

  At the far end of the room, waiting like a slumbering god, sat the Demon King’s throne.

  As he approached, he felt its pressure—an overwhelming, suffocating force, as if the throne itself were testing whether he belonged anywhere near it. But he kept walking. Step by step. Breath by breath.

  He reached it.

  And without hesitation… he sat.

  Instantly, a voice echoed inside his skull—ancient, distorted, commanding:

  “Speak your name.”

  He smirked.

  “Lucifer.”

  The entire world trembled. The throne room shattered like glass, dissolving into pure darkness. Lucifer blinked—and found himself standing alone in an empty field.

  Then the memories came.

  Every fragment of his past life. Every wound. Every failure. Every humiliation. One by one, they played before his eyes in an attempt to break him.

  And finally… his parents.

  The dead eyes.

  The sinister smiles.

  The moment that destroyed his childhood on Chronos.

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  But this time, Lucifer didn’t flinch.

  The illusions shattered.

  And from the pieces, a figure stepped out—a shadow shaped like Lucifer himself.

  A black Lucifer, formed from his darkness.

  Lucifer didn’t react to the appearance of the shadowy figure. Something that looked like him was nothing new; he had faced reflections of himself before.

  He stared calmly at the dark copy.

  “Why are you here? What do you want?”

  Black Lucifer grinned, its voice distorted like cracking bone.

  “What I want is simple… your body. With it, I can finally enjoy a meal worth devouring.”

  Lucifer’s expression didn’t change.

  “Then you’ll have to fight me for it.”

  “Gladly.”

  A blade of pitch-black metal formed in the copy’s hand, and it launched forward with frightening speed.

  Lucifer slipped past every slash with ease, each movement precise, almost lazy. After creating some distance, he thrust out his hand—

  and a sword materialized in his grasp.

  Black Lucifer froze.

  “Impossible… no one has ever manifested a weapon in here. How?”

  Lucifer twirled the blade once, testing the weight.

  “We’re inside my consciousness. This isn’t your domain—it’s mine.”

  Black Lucifer snarled, irritation twisting its face.

  Lucifer continued, voice steady:

  “If this space belongs to me, then you can’t overpower me. You’re a test… nothing more. And I would never be defeated by a mere test.”

  The shadow’s expression contorted further, fury rising as the truth set in.

  Black Lucifer roared in frustration and lunged forward, its attacks wild and ruthless—but none of its strikes touched Lucifer. Every slash met only empty air.

  Lucifer countered with a single precise blow, his sword striking Black Lucifer square in the chest and sending it skidding several meters across the void.

  The shadow double glared up, its eyes burning a furious crimson.

  It had stopped playing.

  With a howl, Black Lucifer charged again, moving faster than before. But as it closed the distance, it froze.

  Lucifer was already waiting—his sword raised high, glowing with his will.

  Black Lucifer didn’t even have time to swing.

  Lucifer brought his blade down in a single decisive arc.

  Darkness split—and then everything went silent.

  Lucifer awoke seated upon the Demon King’s throne.

  At once, three massive waves of dark energy burst from the throne, rippling outward across the entire realm of Hell. The very ground trembled beneath the announcement: a new Demon King had risen.

  The throne room doors slammed open.

  Seven demons stepped inside—each radiating monstrous power—and knelt before the throne.

  Before Lucifer could speak, an eighth figure entered. Unlike the others, he walked straight toward Lucifer and knelt directly at his feet.

  Rising to stand, the demon placed a hand over his chest.

  “My King. I am Kane. Your adviser.”

  Lucifer narrowed his eyes.

  “I don’t need an adviser.”

  Kane bowed his head politely.

  “All Demon Lords have advisers. And every Demon King must have one. This is the law of Hell.”

  Lucifer sighed—not out of weakness, but irritation.

  “Then who are these seven kneeling before me?”

  Kane smiled faintly.

  “They are the Seven Deadly Sins, my King—your seven generals, each born to command a legion of darkness.”

  Lucifer looked at each of them and told them to raise their heads. They obeyed, lifting their gazes to meet his. He instructed them to introduce themselves one by one.

  The first to speak was Sloth, known for his overwhelming laziness. Next came Gluttony, famous for his bottomless hunger. After him stepped Lust, a female succubus whose beauty could captivate even the strongest of wills. She was followed by Envy, another succubus whose allure was matched only by the simmering jealousy in her eyes.

  Then came the leader of the Seven Deadly Sins, Wrath—a demon whose fury only made him stronger. The angrier he grew, the more uncontrollable and devastating his power became. After him stood Greed, a demon consumed by the desire for possessions and willing to do anything to obtain them.

  Lastly, Pride introduced himself. He was the strongest among the sins and never hid that fact. His power grew endlessly during battle, making him increasingly dangerous the longer a fight dragged on.

  As Pride finished speaking, the throne room doors slowly opened once again. Four demonic figures walked inside with an aura of overwhelming confidence. They didn’t greet Lucifer. They didn’t even acknowledge the Seven Deadly Sins. And unlike the others, they did not

  kneel.

  They stopped before the throne, standing boldly in front of Lucifer. Lucifer studied them for a moment before asking who they were. Without hesitation, they introduced themselves with absolute confidence.

  The first was Mephistopheles, the Demon Lord of the East and the strongest among the four.

  Second came Apollyn, the Demon Lord of the West and the second strongest.

  He was followed by Astarte, known across Hell as the Demon Spirit Queen, a master of spirit arts.

  Lastly came her twin sister, Ammit the Soul Devourer, a Demon Queen feared for her ability to attack a person’s very soul.

  When the introductions ended, Mephistopheles stepped forward and declared that he opposed Lucifer’s ascension. In his eyes, Lucifer did not deserve to be Demon King. He sneered openly at Lucifer’s appearance—his human-like form, his lack of horns, and the barbaric simplicity of his clothing.

  Kane opened his mouth to respond, but Lucifer raised a hand, stopping him.

  Lucifer’s voice was calm as he addressed the four Demon Lords.

  “So… you are displeased because I lack horns? Because I look human? Or is it simply that you believe I am weak?”

  All four Demon Lords nodded without hesitation, fully agreeing.

  Lucifer exhaled softly, almost amused. “Very well. Even though sitting upon this throne already proves my worth, if it is strength you want, I shall show it to you.”

  He stood up, his eyes cold. “I will fight all four of you simultaneously. And Kane will act as mediator.”

  They laughed at Lucifer’s challenge, certain he had just signed his own death sentence. Still, they accepted. With arrogant confidence, the four Demon Lords turned and left the throne room, heading toward the colossal stadium behind the Demon King’s castle.

  The “stadium” was more like an ancient coliseum—massive, black stone walls, towering pillars, and an arena wide enough for armies to clash. It had been built long ago as the training ground for the Demon King and his generals. But until this moment, it had never truly been used.

  When they arrived, the Seven Deadly Sins took their seats, eager to witness the battle between their new king and the Demon Lords.

  Lucifer walked into the center of the arena, still dressed in the same ragged clothes he wore when he left the Forest of Slaughter. The torn fabric, dirty bandages, and loose cloth made him look almost barbaric—an image that made the Demon Lords smirk.

  Lucifer was the first to speak.

  “For the sake of time,” he said calmly, “you should all attack together. Four against one.”

  He said it politely, but all four Demon Lords could hear the underlying meaning:

  They stood no chance one-on-one.

  Their smiles vanished instantly. Rage twisted their expressions.

  Ignoring his suggestion, they decided to fight him individually—though the first to step forward were the twin queens, Ammit

  and Astarte. As a pair, their strength was far greater, and they believed they could finish Lucifer quickly.

  Lucifer made no objection. His face remained unreadable.

  The other Demon Lords stepped back. Kane raised his hand and signaled the start of the battle.

  Immediately, the twin queens launched massive fireballs toward Lucifer—huge, roaring spheres of crimson flame that tore through the air. Heat rippled across the stadium, and the ground shook under their explosive force.

  Lucifer didn’t move.

  He simply stood still as the fireballs hurtled toward him.

  The fireballs slammed into Lucifer and exploded violently, shaking the entire arena. Flames surged upward like a volcanic eruption, swallowing him in a storm of smoke and fire.

  But the queens were not foolish enough to believe he had been defeated so easily.

  Before the smoke had even begun to clear, Astarte and Ammit rushed forward, weaving through the flames with blinding speed. They closed the distance instantly, aiming to strike Lucifer the moment the haze gave them even the slightest outline of his figure.