Lucian leaned back in his chair, his sharp eyes fixed on the demon in white before him.
"I can't do that. That isn't my role. I won't sever fate for you. But I can guide the one who will."
Lucian said at last, his voice even.
The room grew colder. Belphegor tilted his head, his white hair falling like snow over his face. His lips curved, though there was no mirth in the smile.
"So you refuse? You won't even attempt to defy fate, even when you carry the ability to do so?"
His voice was soft, but every syllable carried a weight that pressed against Lucian's chest.
Lucian didn't flinch. He leaned forward, resting his small hands on the table between them.
"My goal is not to serve fate. My goal is to repay a debt and to aid the one who will free this world. Severing fate for you does not benefit me. But guiding that person—that does align with my path."
For the first time, Belphegor's expression cracked. His lazy indifference shifted into mild annoyance.
