Chapter 8.1. The Encounter (2)

  The air screamed.

  One by one, demons vanished—soldiers, lords, and sins alike—pulled away by the spell and torn from the battlefield. Hell reclaimed its children in flashes of distorted space.

  Silence followed.

  Alexander groaned as consciousness returned to him. He pushed himself upright, his vision blurring before sharpening on a single sight.

  Lucifer.

  Impaled. Bleeding. Still standing.

  Alexander’s eyes narrowed. This is it, he thought. A chance that would never come again.

  A shadow blade formed in his hand, its edge trembling with dark intent. He circled the massive hole in the ground, careful, deliberate, until he stood a few meters from Lucifer’s battered form.

  He raised his sword and pointed it forward.

  “I hate winning like this,” Alexander said quietly, “but that doesn’t matter. As long as you die, this world will finally be safe.”

  Lucifer slowly lifted his head.

  He grinned.

  Blood poured from his mouth and puncture wounds—then evaporated into nothing, hissing into the air like mist touching flame.

  His glowing eyes locked onto Alexander’s.

  A monster’s smile spread across his face.

  “Goodbye for good, Demon King Lucifer,” Alexander shouted as he charged.

  Before he could reach Lucifer, Kane appeared in a gust of wind, pushing Alexander several meters back. Kane knew he wasn’t Alexander’s match, but in the human king’s weakened state, he could hold him off long enough.

  Turning his back on Alexander, Kane carefully lifted the impaled Demon King, whose consciousness was fading with every heartbeat.

  Alexander roared and charged again, sword raised high. He swung downward—but Kane and Lucifer vanished right before his eyes.

  In an instant, they reappeared in Hell. Most of the demons froze in surprise, but there was no time to marvel at the teleportation. Kane gently laid Lucifer on the cold floor of the throne room.

  “K—King…!” Kane called repeatedly, shaking him slightly. No response.

  Worry creased Kane’s face. He transferred some of his own energy into Lucifer, waiting anxiously. Slowly, movement returned. A twitch of a finger. A shallow breath.

  Minutes passed, and Kane persisted, pushing more energy into the Demon King. Finally, Lucifer’s eyes cracked open, glowing faintly, and he exhaled with a faint smirk.

  He was alive.

  “Ah… where am I?” Lucifer muttered as he slowly sat up.

  “My Lord, you are in your castle, back in Hell,” Kane replied, quickly moving to support him.

  “H-Hell?” Lucifer frowned. “I don’t remember setting the mass teleportation spell to include me. Tell me, Kane… what did you do?” His voice was weak, strained.

  “I adjusted the spell and included you within it,” Kane answered honestly.

  Lucifer’s eyes narrowed.

  “You fool. There was a reason I excluded myself.”

  He took a slow breath before continuing.

  “Mass teleportation consumes an enormous amount of energy. The more powerful the targets, the greater the strain. Teleporting the entire demonic army, the Demon Lords, the Seven Sins… and you already pushed the spell to its limits.”

  He clenched his jaw.

  “If I had included myself from the start, the magical load would have been too great for you to control. The spell could have collapsed.”

  Lucifer turned his gaze fully on Kane.

  “What you did was disobey a direct order from your king.”

  Kane lowered his head.

  “Then I will accept whatever punishment you deem fit, my Lord. But know this—if I had not acted, you would have died at the hands of that human king.”

  For a moment, silence hung heavy in the throne room.

  Then Lucifer chuckled.

  “Hehehe… you believe you deserve praise for saving me?”

  He lifted his head slightly, a dangerous grin forming as blood evaporated from his lips.

  “Do you truly think that even without magic, I am fragile enough to be killed by a pathetic weakling like that human king?”

  His red eyes gleamed.

  “With all due respect, my Lord, I do not need praise,” Kane said calmly.

  “I only did my duty as your adviser. There was no way I would allow the humans to capture you… let alone kill you.”

  Lucifer studied him for a moment.

  “Hmmm. Loyal enough to disobey a direct order, huh?” He paused, then nodded.

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  “Very well. But there is a problem.”

  His expression darkened.

  “You are dying, Kane.”

  Kane froze.

  “My Lord… what do you mean?” he asked quickly. “I feel no different than I normally do.”

  “You wouldn’t feel it yet,” Lucifer replied. “Close your eyes. Look inside yourself, and tell me what you see.”

  Kane did as instructed.

  His consciousness sank inward.

  What greeted him made his breath freeze.

  At the centre of his being floated a small black hole—something that had never existed before. It distorted everything around it, bending even his perception. As he drifted closer, an overwhelming pull seized him, dragging at his consciousness.

  Panic surged.

  Kane immediately retreated, snapping back to reality.

  “My Lord…” he said, his voice strained. “There is a black hole within me. When I approached it, something tried to pull me in.”

  Lucifer clicked his tongue.

  “Damn it. It’s progressing faster than I expected.”

  He leaned forward.

  “That black hole is devouring your soul, piece by piece. You wouldn’t be able to see the damage yet—but it is happening.”

  Kane’s fists clenched.

  “It will continue to grow,” Lucifer went on. “Larger… deeper… until your soul is completely consumed.”

  His gaze sharpened.

  “And once it finishes with your soul,” he said quietly,

  “you will be next.”

  “How long will it take?” Kane asked quietly.

  “My Lord.”

  Lucifer did not hesitate.

  “You have roughly two days before your soul is completely devoured,” he said.

  “After that, another four days before the black hole consumes you.”

  As he spoke, Lucifer coughed violently.

  Blood spilled from his mouth—only to evaporate before it could touch the floor.

  “My Lord,” Kane said urgently, stepping closer. “You need to be healed first. My situation is insignificant compared to your life.”

  Lucifer waved him off.

  “No,” he said firmly. “There is a way to save you.”

  Kane’s eyes widened.

  “It will be extremely painful,” Lucifer continued. “But if you endure until the process is complete, you will be reborn.”

  Another cough shook his body.

  The blood vanished once more.

  “My Lord,” Kane said, fear creeping into his voice, “even if such a method exists, you are in no condition to use magic.”

  Lucifer smirked despite his state.

  “I won’t need my own magic,” he replied.

  “I’ll use the laws of nature themselves.”

  Kane stiffened.

  “That means borrowing power from the Spirit World.”

  Lucifer’s expression twisted with irritation.

  “Yes,” he said coldly. “And I despise using magic from that place.”

  He exhaled slowly.

  “It requires chanting.”

  “My Lord,” Kane said after a moment of thought, “if this involves spirit magic… doesn’t Demon Lord Astarte use spirit magic? Perhaps we could ask for her help.”

  Lucifer’s eyes narrowed slightly.

  “Of course we could,” he replied calmly.

  “But doing so would only accelerate your death.”

  Kane stiffened.

  “That black hole inside you is made of negative energy—dark matter, if you prefer the technical term,” Lucifer continued.

  “And demonic energy itself is born from dark matter.”

  He let the words sink in.

  “If we used Astarte’s spirit magic, it would be like throwing fuel onto a wildfire and hoping it puts itself out.”

  Lucifer’s gaze hardened.

  “The black hole would grow faster. Stronger.

  And it wouldn’t just stop with you.”

  Kane swallowed.

  “It could begin swallowing everything around you.”

  The room fell silent.

  “I understand,” Kane said at last. “But if the spell you intend to cast will harm you…”

  He shook his head.

  “I’d rather die than let that happen.”

  Lucifer stared at him for several seconds.

  Then, unexpectedly, he chuckled.

  “As usual, you worry too much,” Lucifer said quietly.

  “I won’t be using my magic. You said it yourself—I can’t right now. So it will be fine.”

  Kane froze.

  “Wait… My Lord,” he said, eyes widening. “You actually can’t use magic?”

  Lucifer nodded.

  “One of those damned spears pierced my heart,” he replied.

  “Not just the flesh—the circuit.”

  He pressed two fingers lightly against his chest.

  “The residue embedded in that spear disrupted the magical circuit housed in my heart. The flow is broken.”

  Lucifer coughed, thick blood spilling from his mouth before evaporating in the air.

  “Magic is still inside me,” he continued calmly.

  “But it can’t escape. It runs wild—colliding, looping, tearing at me from the inside.”

  He straightened slightly.

  “I’m locked. Completely.”

  Kane’s fists tightened.

  “But anyway,” Lucifer said, waving it off, “we’re getting side-tracked. Let’s begin.”

  Another cough wracked his body.

  Looks like I don’t have much time left, Lucifer thought.

  The air grew heavy.

  “Come forth—Power of Darkness,” Lucifer intoned.

  “Ruler of death… and final arbiter—Hell’s Reaper.”

  The ground trembled.

  “Set your eyes upon this unfortunate soul… and grant him your power.”

  Pitch-black energy flooded over Lucifer’s arm, swallowing the light around it.

  He reached forward and placed his hand against Kane’s face.

  The darkness surged.

  In an instant, the black energy poured into Kane, wrapping around his body like a living shroud as the chamber groaned under the weight of an ancient law being invoked.

  A searing heat erupted inside Kane.

  It wasn’t fire—it was judgment.

  The pain bloomed from his core and tore outward, as if his very soul had been thrown into a furnace. His scream shattered the silence of the throne room, echoing against stone older than memory.

  Kane collapsed to his knees.

  The agony only intensified.

  Lucifer watched him burn.

  A faint smile touched his lips.

  Hold on, Kane, he thought.

  Just a little longer.

  When you awaken… you will be Death itself.

  Lucifer slowly leaned back against the cold stone.

  His vision dimmed.

  He closed his eyes—and did not open them again.

  I suppose my time is up, he thought.

  The black energy thickened.

  It began by consuming Kane’s clothes, reducing them to ash in seconds. Then it pressed inward, biting into flesh, branding sigils of annihilation directly onto his body.

  Kane screamed again.

  The darkness didn’t stop.

  It sank deeper, threading through muscle and sinew, until it reached bone.

  There, it latched on.

  The energy fused with his skeleton, wrapping itself around every fragment of bone as if claiming ownership.

  Suddenly—

  The pain vanished.

  Kane gasped, trembling in silence.

  For a brief, terrifying moment… there was nothing.

  Then it returned.

  Stronger.

  Sharper.

  Far worse.

  His skin began to crack.

  Thin fissures spread across his body like shattered porcelain. Pieces of flesh broke away, crumbling into blackened fragments that dissolved before they hit the floor.

  Kane screamed once more as his body began to shed its mortal shell—

  not dying…

  but being rebuilt.

  The pain became unbearable.

  Kane clutched his head as he screamed, his body arching backward until his gaze locked onto the towering ceiling of the throne room. His skin continued to peel away, tearing from him in strips and fragments.

  Each piece that touched the cold stone floor turned instantly to dust.

  Kane never noticed.

  The screaming drowned out everything.

  Soon, there was no skin left.

  No muscle.

  No flesh at all.

  What remained was a lone skeleton, standing motionless, its arms hanging lifelessly at its sides. The throne room fell deathly silent, as if even the world itself was holding its breath.

  Then—

  Cracks spread across the bones.

  Thin at first, then violent.

  From within those fractures, purple energy began to leak out, glowing brighter with each passing second. The light intensified until violet flames erupted around the skeletal form.

  The heat was overwhelming.

  Under the pressure of the flames, the bones darkened, turning pitch black, as if forged in the heart of a dying star.

  Within the hollow sockets where eyes once were, two radiant purple flames condensed into sharp points of light, burning steadily at their centres.

  The skeleton moved.

  Slowly, deliberately, it lowered its gaze to its arms.

  They were wreathed in roaring violet fire.

  It clenched its fists.

  “I feel it,” Kane said, his voice calm—unnaturally calm.

  “The power of death… endless, vast… yet completely under my control.”

  He straightened.

  “So this,” he continued softly, “is what power truly feels like.”