Chapter 5: The Council

  The humans struck at the demons, fearful of their demonic energy. They claimed it would corrupt the land. Perhaps they were only repeating what they had been told.

  As the war spiralled out of control and humans began to falter, reinforcements arrived—beings suffused with holy magic. They swept onto the battlefield, tipping the scales and preventing total annihilation.

  Amid the clash between the strongest warriors of both sides, a sudden gate tore open above them. The demons were pulled through, landing in a place of torment—Hell itself. Wretched souls and monstrous entities filled the air, their cries twisting like smoke.

  A war erupted between dragons and demons, each seeking the other’s destruction. Yet, as the conflict reached its peak, their leaders vanished into the unknown. Slowly, the survivors reconciled, halting the bloodshed.

  But the dragons were not so fortunate. The poisoned miasma of this infernal realm claimed them, while the demons, resilient to its corruption, found themselves in an untamed paradise, perfectly suited to their nature.

  Greed, however, is not easily silenced. Even in Hell, the demons turned toward the human world. Each attempt ended in crushing defeat, their chosen leaders falling again and again. Pride battered, they finally retreated, vowing never to risk extinction by returning.

  Years later, I arrived in this place. Whether it was intended or not, I cannot say. The Supreme Being’s hand moved behind the scenes once more.

  Lucifer, aware of the designs shaping our fates, found renewed purpose—a reason to guide the demons toward their salvation.

  “Kane,” Lucifer said, his voice echoing through the chamber, “yes—My Lord. I will be taking a short trip. While I’m gone, assemble an army. Nothing grand, just a force strong enough to test the humans. I want those… special ones pushed into the open. I want to see them myself.”

  Kane bowed sharply, tension flickering in his eyes, then hurried out of the room.

  The moment the door closed behind him, Lucifer’s form dissolved into shadow.

  He reappeared on the roof of his castle, the cold wind clawing at his cloak.

  And there it was—waiting in the darkness like a living omen.

  The black dragon.

  As Lucifer approached, the dragon stirred, its eyes flickering open like molten coals.

  “Do you remember me?” Lucifer asked, his voice low, echoing over the rooftop shadows.

  “How many years has it been?” the dragon rumbled. “The last time I saw you, you had just summoned me…and the others…from the human world.”

  Lucifer recounted everything that had transpired since, his words cutting through the chill night air. The dragon listened, unblinking, its presence a suffocating weight. When he finished, understanding glimmered in its ancient gaze.

  “Would you care to take a short trip to the human world with me?” Lucifer asked.

  The dragon hesitated for a heartbeat, curious how he would accomplish such a feat. Yet, without another question, it accepted.

  In an instant, the dragon’s form dissolved into black mist, seeping into Lucifer’s body. A dark tattoo of the dragon etched itself onto his left arm, its eyes seeming to burn from within his skin.

  He transmitted to the field in front of his castle, where the Sabertooth Tiger awaited.

  As he turned, he saw it sprint toward him, muscles rippling under its striped hide. The moment it reached him, it dissolved into black mist, flowing into his body. A tattoo of the tiger etched itself onto his left arm, coiling like living shadow.

  Lucifer transmitted again, this time collecting Cerberus’s tattoo. With all three marks secured, he shifted to the stadium.

  He inhaled deeply. “Gate,” he whispered. A portal shimmered into existence, but he carefully masked its presence, ensuring the Demon world remained oblivious.

  He stepped through. As Lokie had promised, he arrived back on Earth. Instantly, he veiled his demonic energy, hiding himself from the gaze of The Supreme Being.

  He transmitted to the place where his parents had lived. Luckily, no one was around when he appeared.

  Lucifer knocked on the door, expecting to see them. Instead, strangers opened it. Confused, he asked about the previous owners.

  “They were kicked out of the capital… sent to a deserted land,” one of them replied.

  A surge of rage flared inside him, surprising him. He had thought himself beyond such human emotions. He thanked them curtly and left.

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  As the door closed, Lucifer transmitted as far from the capital as he could. His wings unfurled, black and leathery, catching the wind as he took to the skies, searching for his parents’ energy signatures.

  It took time, but finally, he locked onto their location. He descended, landing at a distance so his demon wings would remain hidden. Slowly, he walked toward the house.

  At the front door, he hesitated. He had faced a god without fear, yet now a simple knock froze him.

  Summoning courage, he finally rapped on the door. It opened.

  She was there. His mother.

  “I’m home, Mother,” he said.

  Tears filled her eyes. She embraced him tightly, holding him longer than he had imagined possible. In that instant, Lucifer felt a warmth that even Hell itself could not rival. For the first time in countless years, he was at peace.

  He heard his father’s voice from inside.

  Tyrion stepped into view and asked who was at the door. His eyes fell on Elora, hugging someone tightly. “Who is that?” he repeated.

  Elora smiled, her voice trembling. “Our baby boy.”

  The father blinked, disbelief etched across his face. “Baby boy? He’s… a fully grown man!”

  They entered the house, and Lucifer immediately noticed how frail and malnourished his parents had become. He asked if they were eating properly. Tyrion assured him they were surviving, but Lucifer could see the truth—the absence of meat in their diet. Anger flared.

  “Humans did this to you…” he muttered, his voice tight. He asked to step outside for a moment.

  Outside, he gazed at the sky, dark clouds swirling like ink. How could I have ever trusted you?

  With a deep breath, he opened a gate to his castle in Hell and went to the storage room. There, he gathered large quantities of meat from the Forest of Slaughter. The flesh was demon meat—poisonous to humans—but he purified it, stripping away its harmful effects and any demonic life-force.

  He returned to his parents’ home, the meat floating behind him in an eerie, silent procession.

  Their eyes lit up at the sight. His mother rushed to prepare it, and for once, Lucifer allowed himself a quiet satisfaction. Of course, he left out the detail that the meat had once belonged to monsters in Hell.

  He was left in the sitting room with his father.

  Tyrion asked the usual questions—how he was, what he had been doing—but the one that weighed heaviest was how Lucifer had become what he was: his appearance, his power, his very presence.

  Lucifer’s lips curved into a faint smile. “It would be best if I told you both what happened after I left Earth with The Supreme Being,” he said.

  For now, they spoke of simpler things. Father and son bantered, tossing comedic insults back and forth. Laughter, rich and rare, echoed through the room. It was the first time Lucifer had laughed since being sent to Hell, and the sound seemed almost alien in the shadowed space.

  Elora finished cooking in the kitchen, the faint aroma of sizzling meat and herbs drifting into the room. Soon, they all sat down together.

  The meat was tender, its warmth filling the room. The wine, dark and fragrant, caught the flicker of candlelight, sending dancing shadows across the walls. His parents ate with delight, their faces softened by contentment. Even the quiet hum of the evening—the wind brushing the windowpanes, the subtle creak of the house settling—seemed to welcome him home.

  Lucifer watched them, feeling a rare peace. For a moment, the weight of Hell and battles far away lifted, leaving only the simple joy of family.

  As they finished their meal, Lucifer sat with his parents and began his story.

  Elora and Tyrion listened in stunned silence as he recounted what had happened to him in Heaven. He spared them the details of the angels he had slaughtered in Hell—there was no reason for them to bear that particular darkness. He felt no regret for it, so he simply omitted it and moved on.

  He told them about arriving in Hell—again leaving out the truth of how he got there—and spoke of the trials he endured to become the Demon King he was now. He skimmed over the bloodshed and brutality, yet his parents weren’t fools. They understood he must have walked through nightmares to reach such power.

  Still, they accepted everything with quiet resolve. “You did what you had to do,” Tyrion murmured, resting a hand on his son’s shoulder. In the dim candlelight, his face looked tired, worn by years of hardship, but proud.

  Yet Lucifer felt no relief. There was one truth left—one heavier than everything before it.

  He drew in a slow breath, gathering courage. The room felt smaller, the shadows stretching long across the walls as if listening.

  “I need to tell you my next course of action,” he said softly.

  His parents looked at him, attentive, unaware of the storm he was about to drop.

  “I intend to make demons the rulers of Earth,” he said. “And to do that, I’ll have to spill a lot of human blood. As Demon King, I’m the one who must lead the army.”

  The words hung in the air, heavy and cold. Even the faint wind outside seemed to hush, as though the world itself held its breath.

  They were not thrilled at the idea of him killing more people, yet they offered no resistance. In that moment, the fate of humanity mattered little to them.

  Lucifer asked them to return with him to the Demon World.

  But they declined.

  Their reasoning was simple, yet painful: staying with him would only hold him back—from doing what he needed, from achieving what he wanted, from becoming a true King.

  Lucifer tried to persuade them, to no avail. Finally, he let it go, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Now I know where my stubbornness comes from,” he muttered.

  He then introduced them to the three demonic beasts he had summoned when he was still young. Their original forms were massive and terrifying, but now he presented them in smaller, more manageable sizes.

  Oddly, the beasts showed respect toward his parents. Lucifer figured it was because they had been listening all along, realizing how precious these two humans were to him.

  Tyrion asked his age.

  Lucifer paused, considering. “About a hundred years, if you count my time on Earth, in Heaven, and in Hell,” he replied.

  The candlelight flickered across their faces, casting long shadows. The beasts shifted silently behind him, a quiet reminder of the power he commanded—and of the dark path that lay ahead.

  Lucifer returned the question.

  His father was one hundred and two years old, though he looked far younger.

  When he looked at his mother, expecting an answer, she only smiled. “It’s rude to ask a lady her age,” she said lightly.

  At that moment, Lucifer thought it would be easier to face The Supreme Being a hundred times than to hear his mother answer that question. The sheer idea of it felt like it could be the death of him.

  His father laughed heartily. “Would you look at that—the Demon King is afraid of his own human mother! Hahaha!”

  Lucifer shot him a glare, wishing he could punch him right in the face. Despite the teasing, they spent the rest of the afternoon catching up, their laughter filling the room, mingling with the faint crackle of the fireplace and the shadows dancing across the walls.

  Nightfall came, and it was time for him to leave.