Chapter 5.1. The Council (1)

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?” he asked one last time.

  They nodded firmly, reassuring him again that they were certain.

  Lucifer left them enough food to last a lifetime, enchanted to remain fresh, and gave them a single-use incantation to contact him in emergencies. He then cast a protective barrier around their newly built house—a home he had made for them himself. The barrier would vaporize anyone who intended harm, and not even holy magic could penetrate it.

  With everything in place, he embraced them both tightly. The warmth of their closeness lingered, even as the wind outside whispered through the trees and shadows curled against the house.

  Then he turned, a gate shimmering into existence before him.

  As he walked away, his parents were closing the door behind them.

  Lucifer paused, taking in their smiling faces one last time. A faint warmth tugged at him—a fleeting reminder of the life he had left behind. Then, with resolve hardening in his chest, he stepped forward and returned fully to the castle.

  Seated upon his throne, a deep sense of relief washed over him. He had caught up with his parents. He had seen them safe, happy, and for the first time in ages, he felt truly ready. His resolve solidified—he was ready to claim his place as Demon King of Hell.

  A few days later, Kane returned. “The army has been prepared,” he announced.

  Lucifer stepped outside to see for himself. The sight was staggering. Hundreds of thousands of demons filled the field—demonic beasts, towering monsters, and demons who had evolved into terrifying forms after adapting to this world. They stood in silent anticipation, a sea of snarling teeth, gleaming eyes, and bristling horns. The air hummed with their combined power, a subtle vibration that made the very ground tremble.

  Lucifer raised his hand, and the crowd fell silent. His voice rang out, sharp and commanding.

  “For too long we have been trapped in this world. For too long we have feared returning to the land we once called our own. But that ends now! Let this first attack be a warning to the humans—their days are numbered! Let us show them who the true rulers of their world are!!!”

  A chorus of roars erupted across the field, echoing into the distance. Shadows twisted and coiled around the army like living things, the air itself charged with demonic energy. The stage was set.

  War was coming.

  Monsters and hulking beasts roared in a fevered frenzy as the demons around them chanted again and again, their voices shaking the black stone beneath their feet. Lucifer stepped to the frontline with Kane at his side, and at that silent signal the march toward the Gates of Hell began.

  The closer they drew, the heavier the air became—thick with brimstone, ancient heat, and a pressure that felt almost alive. When the Gates finally loomed into view, an entire host awaited them: demons, monstrosities, and twisted war-beasts packed the battleground like a living tide. At the very front stood the Council of Elders, cloaked in shadow and stagnant power. Just as Lucifer had expected, they truly meant to bar the Gates from opening.

  Lucifer and Kane advanced, and the elders stepped forward to meet them. The ground trembled under their combined presence. When they were close enough for their voices to carry through the shimmering heat, Lucifer commanded them to stand down. Predictably, the elders refused, their eyes burning with old fear disguised as authority.

  He regarded them for a long, cold heartbeat before turning away. “You will regret this,” he said, his voice quiet but carrying through the ranks like a blade drawn in the dark. Then he walked back toward his army, the air warping subtly around him as if Hell itself leaned in to listen.

  When the elders returned to their ranks, their command cracked through the air: attack, and leave none of Lucifer’s forces alive.

  Lucifer’s army braced for the charge—

  but Lucifer was already gone.

  He dropped into the heart of the elders’ army in a blur of shadow and flame, the impact sending a shockwave tremoring across the field. Before anyone could react, he was already tearing through demonic creatures with his bare hands, moving with a ferocity that froze even veteran demons in place.

  His army instinctively prepared to advance.

  Kane raised a hand.

  “Stand down,” he said. “These are his orders.”

  And so they watched.

  The elders’ legion turned all their fury toward Lucifer, swarming him with claws, fangs, and corrupted magic. None of it mattered. They were cut down faster than they could scream.

  A hundred thousand demons fell to fifty thousand. Fifty to twenty-five thousand. Twenty-five to ten—all in under five minutes.

  The survivors staggered back, trembling, unwilling to step near the blood-soaked figure standing amid a growing sea of corpses. The battlefield no longer felt like a place of war—it felt like the heart of something ancient and merciless.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Lucifer lifted his arms toward the sky.

  The miasma above—black and violet and alive—plunged downward in a spiraling torrent, swallowing him and every remaining demon in a single breath.

  When it finally thinned, silence fell.

  Every demon touched by the miasma had rotted where they stood, collapsing into the scorched earth. Only Lucifer remained—breathing slowly, crimson dripping from him like a second shadow.

  Lucifer’s body had rotted away with the others—but unlike them, he began to heal.

  Flesh knit itself over exposed bone, muscle coiled back into place, and new skin crawled across his limbs in rapid, unsettling waves. He tilted his head, glancing over his shoulder as his jaw reformed.

  “Do you wish to continue?” he asked, the skin on his face still sliding over his skull.

  The elders said nothing.

  Their army had been obliterated. The few survivors dropped their weapons and fell to their knees, choosing to join Lucifer rather than share the fate of the fallen.

  Lucifer exhaled sharply. The blood covering him blasted outward in a single gust, scattering across the charred ground like crimson dust. Then he walked toward the elders, who stood rooted before the Gates of Hell.

  When he reached them, he spoke one word:

  “Move.”

  The elders exchanged a terrified glance. The grand elder stepped aside first, trembling, and the rest followed without hesitation.

  Lucifer turned his gaze to the massive stone doors guarding the true Gate. They were ancient, carved with shifting runes and scars from forgotten wars. His eyes glowed—a cold, commanding light.

  The stone groaned and slowly split apart, revealing the true Gate behind them: a swirling vortex of raw demonic essence.

  Lucifer stepped forward.

  He reached out and pressed his hand into the Gate.

  At once, the Gate convulsed. The demonic energy within it surged outward and was violently pulled into him, spiraling through his arm and flooding into his body like a storm given form.

  The air around him rippled as Hell itself responded.

  A sudden flash tore through Lucifer’s mind.

  For an instant, he saw the demon who had first sealed the Gate—an enormous silhouette framed in ancient fire. But the face was blurred, hidden by time or will. Lucifer understood enough.

  Another realization followed, cold and immediate.

  Two keys were required to open the Gate—one demonic, one holy. If the Gate had been locked from the human side as well, then someone wielding holy magic had sealed it there.

  He turned toward the elders.

  “Explain,” he commanded.

  They bowed their heads, shame and fear twisting their features.

  “That… is why we forbade the opening of the Gate,” the grand elder admitted. “Not out of defiance, My Lord—but because we can no longer open it ourselves. The human side remains locked, and only a holy bearer can unseal it.”

  Lucifer said nothing.

  But the air around him tightened, as though Hell itself sensed what his next move might be.

  The elders continued, voices low with humiliation.

  “During our last retreat, the humans discovered how to lock the Gate from their side. Since then, we have concealed the truth—we could not allow anyone to know we were unable to open it anymore.”

  Lucifer exhaled slowly, a weary sound edged with cold frustration.

  Without another word, he opened his own portal. Black flames curled around him as he stepped through.

  He emerged in the human world—not directly beside the Gate, but near enough to feel its distant pulse. He had expected guards.

  He was right.

  Roughly a hundred human soldiers surrounded the Gate, stationed in a tight perimeter. Their armor glinted in the sunlight, and their holy wards shimmered faintly in the air, like ripples trying to hold back a storm.

  None of it deterred him.

  Lucifer began walking straight toward the Gate, each step echoing with quiet inevitability. The soldiers shouted warnings, some raising shields, others drawing blessed blades.

  “Turn around! Step back!”

  He didn’t slow.

  He didn’t speak.

  He simply kept walking—an advancing shadow the soldiers could neither comprehend nor stop.

  Lucifer released a wave of black aura.

  The soldiers instantly recognized what he was—demon—and scrambled into formation. Shields locked together. Spears lowered. Above them, archers took position atop the structure built around the Gate.

  Lucifer didn’t stop.

  As his gaze swept across the front line, his eyes flared crimson. The soldiers froze mid-step, bodies locked in place as an invisible weight crushed them down.

  Gravity magic.

  The archers panicked. Several fumbled for flares and launched them into the sky.

  Lucifer lifted a hand.

  The flares halted in mid-air, trembling violently as gravity wrapped around them like a fist. With a casual motion, he smothered them in swirling wind, extinguishing their light before they could signal anyone.

  Then he rose from the ground, drifting upward with an eerie stillness.

  He landed atop the structure in front of the horrified archers. A second pulse of gravity dropped them instantly, pinning each man to the stone. Their weapons clattered uselessly.

  With another gesture, he lifted them all at once—helpless, weightless—and carried them down to the ground, setting them beside the soldiers already crushed into the dirt.

  The commander struggled to lift his head.

  “W-who are you?” he managed.

  Lucifer ignored him.

  His eyes glowed again, brighter than before. The massive stone doors sealing the human side of the Gate groaned, then slowly split open.

  He allowed himself a faint, knowing thought.

  Lucifer placed his hand against the Gate.

  Holy magic surged into him at once—pure, radiant, and violent—yet he absorbed it effortlessly. This time, no vision followed. No echo of the past. Only power.

  Pinned beneath the crushing gravity, several soldiers began to laugh through the pressure.

  The commander forced out a breathless taunt.

  “You stupid demon… Did you really think you could open a Gate sealed with holy magic? Now you see it’s impossible. Give up. Surrender to us.”

  Lucifer turned his head slowly.

  He met the commander’s gaze.

  And smiled.

  Without breaking eye contact, he pressed his hand back to the Gate.

  The holy seal dissolved under his touch.

  The Gate opened.

  In a single motion, he swept the entire hundred-plus soldiers upward, wrapped them in gravity like puppets, and flung them into the swirling portal. Their screams vanished as the Gate swallowed them whole.

  Lucifer stepped through after them.

  He emerged in the Demon world, and the gathered demons recoiled in shock as a rain of armored bodies spilled onto the black stone behind him. None of them had expected their king to return from the human side of the Gate itself.

  He pushed the pinned humans toward the elders without ceremony.

  Then he approached the trembling commander, whose eyes darted wildly between fear and disbelief.

  “You asked who I am,” Lucifer said.

  He leaned in, voice carrying through the silent ranks of demons.

  “My name is Lucifer… and I am the Demon King.”