Chapter 65: Reorganization
Lucifer soon returned to Hell.
However, he did not take the route he had used to leave; instead, he entered through the passage discovered by the demon Vassago—a fact that could hardly remain a secret.
Back when he was an angel, he had traversed this very path countless times.
At his level of power, neither Light nor Darkness could possibly impede his progress.
Was Agares unaware of this?
No.
They merely viewed this as an opportunity to pledge their allegiance to him, rather than attaching any particular significance to the passage itself.
He lowered his lashes, his dark hair casting elegant shadows across his face.
A demon caught sight of him and instantly froze in stunned silence.
"Lord Yahweh!"
Hearing that name called out so abruptly, Lucifer narrowed his eyes into a sharp, piercing gaze and turned toward the demon who had spoken.
Only then did he realize the demon looked remarkably familiar.
"Buer?" he uttered the name of the green-clad demon.
Buer—the demon. After the Holy War had ended all those ages ago, they had failed to find any trace of him among the captives.
Given Buer's particular talents, Lucifer had surmised that he likely employed sorcery to beguile the angelic guards. Since Buer had never resurfaced thereafter—and given that his abilities posed no threat—they had not pursued the matter any further. He certainly hadn't expected to run into him here, in Hell.
Though... why did he look so utterly deranged?
"Lord Yahweh..." Buer grinned foolishly, reaching out a hand as he stumbled dizzily closer, attempting to touch Lucifer's face.
Lucifer tilted his head, deftly evading the demon's pitch-black claws. Frowning, he seized the demon by the wrist and issued a cold, stern warning:
"I am not Yahweh."
"Please accept my apologies!" A voice called out from the shadows, and Lucifer cast a sidelong glance in its direction.
It was yet another demon.
He released his vice-like grip and flung the demon he was holding away; however, Dantalian caught Buer mid-air. The green-clad demon squirmed in his grasp, wriggling like a worm.
"My thanks," the demon—whose long hair flowed with extraordinary grace—said with impeccable politeness. "What is the matter with him?" Lucifer wiped his hands with a handkerchief. Once finished, the black cloth hovered in mid-air, spontaneously bursting into flames before burning to ash.
He made no attempt to conceal his disdain for demons; yet, despite this, the demon found himself unable to tear his gaze away.
Although Dantalian was not a Great King-class demon, as a strategist, he had naturally kept a close watch on Lucifer. Ever since the demons had been ousted from the heart of Hell by the Fallen Angels, he had left the service of King Agares to wander alone in the remote corners of the realm.
Though he was a wanderer, he had still encountered a number of companions along the way—Buer was one of them, even if the latter recognized no one.
He held onto Buer; bound by the camaraderie they had once shared as tablemates, he could not bring himself to abandon him. Yet, neither did he possess the benevolence to treat him with gentleness. Rather than focusing on the raving Buer, Dantalian's attention remained fixed primarily on Lucifer.
From the past right up to the present moment, he had never possessed the standing to approach a being of such exalted rank.
"He went mad a thousand years ago," he explained to Lucifer, his eyes lowering slightly as he spoke in a tone of deep reverence.
"After returning from the battlefield, he has done nothing but constantly summon an angel named Yahweh."
Lucifer's crimson eyes widened almost imperceptibly. He gazed at Buer, and as he listened to Dantalian's account, memories of events long past began to surface in his mind.
"He must have been a truly beautiful angel," Dantalian remarked with a smile. "Perhaps I, too, was once privileged enough to see him—though, regrettably, I can no longer recall his appearance."
"My memory wasn't particularly sharp back then," the demon added, tapping his finger against his temple with a look of profound regret.
And so, while other demons shunned Buer and gave him a wide berth, Dantalian had taken him in. Perhaps, one day—through Buer's influence—he might just manage to recall the visage of that silver-haired angel from long ago.
"But 'Yahweh' never once answered his calls... and that is how he lost his mind," Dantalian said, keeping his true thoughts carefully concealed as he continued to briefly recount Buer's story.
"Yahweh! Yahweh!" Buer cried out, reaching his hands toward Lucifer with unyielding persistence, his eyes burning with a feverish blend of fanaticism and ecstasy. Lucifer was originally God's miracle, the darling of the Three Realms; from his power to his appearance, all were gifts from God.
When God created him, only God—and those who had beheld God's true visage—knew to what extent He had modeled him after His own likeness.
Adam possessed the physical resemblance, while Lucifer bore the divine aura—qualities rarely found in this world; yet, even they could not compare to God Himself.
But in the eyes of this wretched demon, who had spent a millennium in yearning, this was more than enough.
Bureis gazed at him with a look of utter infatuation.
"You have finally answered me..."
Lucifer averted his face; he bore not the slightest resemblance to Yahweh, proving that this demon had indeed lost his mind.
From beneath his feet, he summoned the River Lethe; the very fount of the Waters of Oblivion swirled around him, lifting him high into the air.
Dantalion watched this scene in astonishment; he saw Lucifer conjure a silver goblet out of thin air, scoop up a draught of the water, and offer it to Bureis to drink.
Bureis refused nothing that "Yahweh" offered him; even if it were poison, he would have willingly died in that very moment.
"Drink but a drop, and forget all that has come before," Lucifer murmured softly.
No joy, no sorrow.
No happiness, no pain.
Yahweh had severed the karmic threads binding Bureis to Him; no matter how fervently this demon might pray hereafter, his pleas would never again receive a response.
Reflecting upon the demon's former self—once so rakish and amorous—and seeing him now in such a state of madness, Lucifer felt a pang of pity for him.
*"If ever I should meet with Yahweh again, I shall convey your sentiments to Him on your behalf; though, knowing His nature, I doubt He would change His ways even if He knew."*
Bureis drifted into a deep slumber; the torments that had plagued him for a thousand years would vanish the moment he awoke.
Dantalion watched it all unfold, a peculiar light glinting in his eyes.
Lucifer's demeanor toward Bureis kindled within Dantalion a faint spark of hope for the future. He felt the urge to speak, yet Lucifer paid him no heed.
Instead, Lucifer spoke to the river flowing beside him, much as one might gently chide an ignorant, mischievous child.
"*This* is the duty you were meant to fulfill."
Receiving his master's affirmation, the River Lethe flowed on with joyful exuberance. Lucifer made himself invisible, no longer sparing a glance for the two demons he left behind. His elusive form traversed the Abyss, journeying all the way to the deepest depths of Hell.
There, Asmodeus was still leading a host of Fallen Angels in an attempt to excavate the Gates of Hell—which had slammed shut once again shortly after Lucifer's departure.
The scene resembled nothing so much as a bustling, feverish construction site.
Seven years had passed in the mortal realm, yet in Hell, it felt as though scarcely any time had elapsed; nevertheless, that brief interval had been more than enough for the Fallen Angels to turn the place completely upside down.
Beneath the Gates of Hell, they had excavated a massive pit—twenty meters long and ten meters wide.
The true depth of the hole remained unknown, though excavated rock and debris were constantly being hauled out from its maw.
Wearing a makeshift dust cap, Asmodeus would periodically leap down into the pit; occasionally, muffled sounds would drift up from the depths—mostly his own shouts and commands.
For instance: "Wrong! Don't dig there—the direction is off again! That leads *up*!"
Or perhaps: "Watch it! Are you trying to trigger another cave-in?!"
"Stop! That way leads straight into a lava flow!"
One could easily imagine the sheer chaos they had endured over the past few days.
Sensing the return of its Master, the Gates of Hell immediately projected its accumulated grievances toward him; never, in all its countless years of existence, had it been subjected to such utter stupidity.
They had actually tried to *tunnel through* it from underneath!
Preposterous!
Receiving the Gates' telepathic transmission of sheer exasperation, Lucifer surveyed the chaotic scene before him and rubbed his temples in weary frustration.
He spotted neither Beelzebub nor Samael anywhere on the site—a reassuring sign that, amidst the ranks of the Fallen, there were still a few sane minds left.
"What on earth are you doing down there, As?" he called out into the pit.
"Your Highness!" A moment later, a voice rang out in delighted surprise. Asmodeus scrambled up from the depths, his face caked in dust and grime—only his eyes remained bright and sparkling.
"Did that damn Gate finally let you out?!"
His face beaming with joy, he lunged forward, intent on enveloping Lucifer in a massive bear hug.
Lucifer raised a single hand, halting his advance. "Don't come near me; you're absolutely filthy." He couldn't even tell whether the Lord had departed for the mortal realm or been swallowed whole by the Gates of Hell...
"It seems Mammon was right after all." Meeting Asmodeus's bewildered gaze, Lucifer felt a complex mix of emotions.
He truly was dense beyond belief—yet this very fool was someone Lucifer had created with his own two hands.
Lucifer asked him what exactly was going on here.
Following Lucifer's line of sight, Asmodeus glanced around; his eyes flickered ever so slightly, betraying a hint of guilt.
For amidst the Fallen Angels present, there were—surprisingly—even a few demons helping to cut stone blocks.
The moment Lucifer appeared, they ceased all activity. Some cowered in the corners, while others stood calmly where they were, appearing utterly unconcerned.
"It's all because of Beelzebub and the others! They actually disregarded Your Majesty's safety entirely! I had no choice but to do the work myself—fortunately, some old acquaintances of mine saw how short-handed I was..."
"I told you long ago that His Majesty had departed for the mortal realm; it was you who refused to heed my counsel." Beelzebub, who had been keeping a close watch on the situation here, rushed over immediately upon hearing of Lucifer's arrival. Seamlessly cutting into Asmodeus's petty complaints, he bowed respectfully to Lucifer.
"Your Majesty, you have returned."
Beelzebub observed Lucifer, whose demeanor had shifted drastically since his departure. The aura of paranoia and madness that had previously clung to him seemed to have vanished.
Curious as to what Lucifer had experienced, he ventured to ask him just that.
"The humans are under His protection; to strike prematurely and alert the enemy was not my intention," Lucifer replied slowly. "For now, our plans for vengeance must be put on hold. What we must do now is far more important than mere revenge."
His journey to the mortal realm had profoundly impacted him. He had observed how Jehovah was subtly guiding humanity—accomplishing things that could have been achieved effortlessly through divine power by instead allowing humans to learn self-reliance, little by little.
As humanity began to grow—such as the moment they discovered how to cultivate crops—the hope that radiated from their faces moved even him.
He found himself gazing upon his own subjects—his followers—and began to ponder: What, truly, could *he* offer them?
This grim, desolate Hell?
No. That was never his true intent.
A crimson light flickered in his hand; moments later, the Blood Moon slowly ascended into the sky. It did not blaze, yet it endowed Hell with an eternal light—a light of deep, somber hues. This dark radiance elongated Lucifer's slender silhouette, and his robes stirred as if caught by an unseen wind.
Both the Fallen Angels and the demons below gazed up at his transcendent figure.
He declared that for as long as he remained, this blood-red moon would continue to cast its glow over the Abyss.
The blood moon, suspended in the heavens, illuminated Hell, and in doing so, forced the Fallen Angels to confront their own disheveled, dust-caked appearances.
Even here in Hell, one must never forfeit one's elegance or pride.
They were stronger than humans, more intelligent, and more capable; how, then, could they ever suffer defeat at human hands?
"Rebuilding Hell is the most pressing matter before us," Lucifer stated; stripping away the overt hostility, his gaze appeared unfathomably deep.
A look of relief washed over Beelzebub's face—an expression he had not shown since the Fall, not even when Lucifer had successfully led them in expelling the demons. He had long feared that Lucifer placed too much importance on the Divine, worrying that such preoccupation might spiral into obsessive paranoia. Yet, upon His Majesty's return from his recent journey...
It was as if he once again beheld the wise and rational leader of days gone by.
Having spoken, Lucifer turned his gaze toward the cluster of demons huddled in the shadows. Upon hearing his words, they—much like the Fallen Angels—stood transfixed, staring blankly at the red moon hanging above the Abyss.
For millennia, Hell had never known such brightness. Although the realm possessed valleys of fire where raging infernos burned, their dim, flickering light had never been enough to illuminate the path lying before them.
A demon sniffled; they could not shed tears, yet they felt a sudden, profound pang of sorrow.
"Your Highness..." Asmodeus began, intending to offer an explanation, but the words caught in his throat, unable to find release.
"They merely wished to help me..."
These were Asmodeus's old acquaintances; during the Holy War of ages past, Asmodeus had aided them—an act for which he had subsequently endured a thousand years of imprisonment.
The world had changed, and the roles of destiny had been completely reversed—a turn of events so bizarre that it left them unsure whether to laugh or to weep.
Lucifer offered no verbal response; he simply continued to regard the demons standing rooted to the spot with a cool, scrutinizing gaze. He was very young—roughly the same age as Mammon.
They were all pure-blooded demons, and quite good-looking at that—otherwise, Asmodeus certainly wouldn't have taken the initiative to speak up on their behalf.
Under his gaze, they visibly grew tense, as if fearing that this leader of the Fallen Angels—rumored to have defeated the Four Great Demon Kings—might suddenly lash out and give them a beating.
Lucifer did not bother to quarrel with Asmodeus over the matter of the demons; he simply stated that a meeting was about to commence and instructed him to escort the demons out as quickly as possible.
The demons were somewhat disappointed.
Especially the younger ones; they shared no deep-seated history or lingering grudges with the Fallen Angels.
They had no desire to be expelled; as for whether or not they would end up working under Lucifer, that was a detail they felt no need to overanalyze.
After all, they had never been given positions of real importance under the old generation of Demon Kings; conversely, they had heard rumors that a certain young demon in Lucifer's retinue was held in very high esteem.
They never expected, however, that Lucifer would hold them in such low regard.
Yet, for their part... the young demons found themselves able to observe the King of the Fallen Angels at close quarters, and they could not help but be captivated by his commanding presence.
None of the old Demon Kings possessed an aura as powerful and elegant as his.
"He looks..."
"Pretty impressive, doesn't he?" A voice drifted down from above, prompting them to look up.
A young demon sat upon the crumbling ramparts, his legs dangling freely, his obsidian-like eyes fixed directly upon them.
"I am Mammon," he introduced himself succinctly. The demons' expressions shifted instantly; *he* was the sole demon whom Lucifer held in high regard.
"Do you want to follow me?" He leaped down from above; despite his diminutive stature, he exuded an air of absolute authority—a truly commanding presence.
"Five hundred magic crystals per demon."
As the only pure-blooded demon in Lucifer's immediate circle, Mammon felt he had every right to weigh in on the matter—and he was fully determined to capitalize on the opportunity. He cast a sweeping glance over the group of demons, who stood there staring at him in dumbfounded silence. "I shall teach you how to win his favor."
…
Lucifer connected the Netherworld—located within the Gates of Hell—to the Nine Layers of Hell. He summoned three rivers to encircle the realm; the water extinguished the flames, cooled the magma, and settled the earth, rendering the very ground solid and firm.
The Netherworld was a place of dim light; using magic, he raised a palace from the ground, and within its temporary conference chamber, they convened a meeting.
Before Samael could arrive, news of Mammon selling "strategy guides" for 500 demon crystals reached Lucifer's ears—conveyed first by Asmodeus, who had just returned from seeing off their old friends.
"500?" Lucifer raised an eyebrow. "The fellow has really come up in the world; I would have thought he'd only charge 50. That, I must admit, comes as a surprise."
He inquired as to the exact number of demons involved, then decided that the next time he distributed their allowances, he would dock Mammon double that amount.
"Your Highness is truly wise!" Seizing the opportunity to lodge a complaint, Asmodeus brought up the incident where Mammon had swindled both him and Beelzebub out of their gold.
"I am aware of that matter," Lucifer said faintly, propping his chin in his hand. "Since you signed the agreement, you are bound to honor your promise. I have nothing further to add."
Asmodeus let out a wail, crying out, "How could this happen…?"
"His Majesty speaks the truth." Beelzebub walked in, clutching a stack of documents, and cut short Asmodeus's pitiful theatrics. "My gold has long since been prepared."
Upon hearing this, Asmodeus looked utterly incredulous.
"We're both penniless, so how on earth did *you* manage to save up that much gold?!"
"If you spent a little less on those pretty demons, you would have saved some up too," Beelzebub remarked coolly, casting a detached glance at him. "And just as a side note…"
"Starting next month, he's going to start charging interest."
"Your Highness!" Asmodeus looked pleadingly at Lucifer, hoping he would intervene and settle the matter in his favor.
"Pay him." Lucifer, without even lifting his head, gave a concise and decisive command as he perused the documents Beelzebub had presented—records detailing the various events that had transpired in Hell during his absence. Let us leave the matter of Mammon there; in Lucifer's mind, that little clique was something Mammon had sought out for himself.
He was a clever child—one with whom Lucifer was, on the whole, quite satisfied—and so he never sought to impose any restrictions upon him in this regard.
[You have provided the work]: *[Hebrew Mythology]—The Arduous History of Raising a World*, by the renowned author Dan Mu'ai.