Scene 1
Ten POV
"Fire!"
The command left Ceres with enough force to cut through the battlefield noise.
A line of arrows rose from behind the wooden wall, black against the dim Underworld sky before they dropped into the charging line below. The first wave hit hard. Bodies stumbled, shields splintered, and devils who had been screaming about reclaiming their homes suddenly choked on dirt and blood before they ever reached the moat.
The wall itself was crude by noble standards. Fresh-cut logs. Reinforced braces. Dirt packed against the interior to absorb impact. It had no elegance, no carved family symbols, and no pointless ornamentation meant to remind peasants which bloodline owned the land beneath their feet.
That was why it worked.
Behind the archers, other soldiers held mortal-style metal shields I had commissioned through the Sitiri clan. Simple. Heavy. Reliable. The kind of equipment most noble houses never bothered giving to lower-ranked devils because the idea itself was foreign to them.
Invest lower.
Harvest real talent from the survivors.
To most pureblood nobles, that sounded like charity.
To me, it sounded like basic warfare.
"Seems like he doesn't want to burn down the forest either," I said, watching the distant enemy formation adjust around the treeline. "Rook, send some men to check the forest."
I didn't bother disrupting Ceres. He had found a rhythm.
Every time Ajuka's men tried to build speed, he broke them. Every time their shields rose too high, he aimed low. Every time they tried to spread, he had the archers punish the edges and force them back toward the center.
Ceres was only Middle Rank, but in this battle, that was enough. Low-Rank arrows meant nothing to him if a few slipped through. Without High-Rank devils moving openly, he was safe from any real spellwork unless Ajuka decided to send an heir into an assault.
If that happened, I would punish him for it.
Until then, there was no reason to move my own pieces.
This was better refinement.
Equal ranks fighting equal ranks while Ajuka and I directed the shape of the field from opposite sides.
"Fire!"
Another volley flew.
This one caught the front line just as they crossed the first stretch of churned mud. A dozen devils dropped at once. A few hit the ground hard enough to trip the ones behind them. Wooden shields cracked. One unlucky soldier caught an arrow through the throat and stumbled forward three steps before collapsing face-first into the shallow moat.
Ceres smirked at the result, then raised his hand again.
"Keep pushing!" someone from Ajuka's side shouted. "We must take back our homes!"
Their officers kept the morale alive through noise alone. The soldiers kept charging because stopping meant being crushed by the line behind them or punished by whatever waited behind their own formation.
They outnumbered my defenders.
That was the only advantage they had.
Most carried wooden shields, rushed into their hands with little concern for quality. Against weak arrows, they could serve for a while. Against repeated volleys, they became traps. Splintered wood drove into arms, faces, and throats. Shields became double-edged weapons against the same men desperate enough to hide behind them.
"Fire!"
The next wave screamed into the field.
"You're strangely in tune with warfare to a scary degree," Mari said beside me. "Did Hades of your world teach you this? Or Athena?"
I glanced at her.
She had changed her face again after bringing me here. Different eyes. Different cheekbones. Different servant's posture. Same hidden blade beneath all of it.
"Neither," I said. "Father wasn't like the Hades you know here. He's largely uninvolved on Earth, minus a couple fallback plans for rainy days. Him and Poseidon are currently one step away from leaving our cycle once they finish their drama with Zeus."
The battlefield roared below us.
The smell of wet mud, blood, cheap leather, and splintered wood rose over the wall. Somewhere near the moat, someone was screaming for his mother. Another was begging an officer to let him pull back.
I kept speaking.
"Athena…" I exhaled softly. "Yeah. We never saw eye to eye. So blocking her with Adamas turned out to be the best use of guarding a Domain against an enemy who had already decided they were out of the game."
Mari's eyes narrowed slightly, but she didn't interrupt.
"This is just driving home answers everyone keeps refusing to give me," I continued. "Wherever my father received my soul from is still a mystery. But some answers are coming in different forms."
The words tasted strange as they left my mouth.
"Odin the Mad."
The moment I said it, something inside me stirred.
Not fully awake.
Not fully asleep.
An old presence deep in my soul shifted as if a name had reached a place it should not have touched yet.
My demonic energy stabilized.
Not completely. Not enough to call it finished.
But the wild pressure that had kept fighting me since my arrival finally settled into a deeper current. A river finding its banks. A storm remembering where the sky ended.
My vision sharpened.
The battlefield moved slower for a breath.
The charging line, the archers, the hidden forest pressure, the timing of Ajuka's assault, the false gaps left open in my defenses — all of it slid into place.
This attack was not meant to win.
It was meant to draw my attention here.
I smiled.
"Rook," I said, voice softer now. "Send word to the teams we have across Lucifer territory."
He stiffened.
"Lord Ten?"
"Time to reignite their nightmares from twenty years ago."
His scarred face twisted in horror for one breath before he caught himself.
Then I returned my gaze to the war.
Below, Ceres raised his hand again.
"Fire!"
Scene 2
Rook POV
"—nightmares from twenty years ago."
The communication circle to Victor had barely faded from my hand when Lord Ten's second order reached me.
For a moment, I did not move.
Start the risky plan.
Burn select targets deep inside Lucifer territory.
Begin the next war from a position of fear before the enemy even understood the first battle had finished.
My eyes lifted toward him.
Then my blood went cold.
Lord Ten's once-crimson eyes had turned into golden stars.
Half of his face was melting away.
Not like flesh rotting. Not like injury. Like the outer mask of his body had decided it was no longer necessary. Beneath it, a golden skull shone through, marked by the black sun divine brand burned into the bone itself.
Silver-feathered wings extended from his back.
Not devil wings.
Angel wings.
Wrong on him.
Right on him.
Both at once.
I looked to Mari in panic.
She only placed one finger to her lips.
Then her shadows shifted near my feet.
Leave.
The message was clear.
I swallowed whatever question tried to rise in my throat and bowed my head.
"Yes, Lord Ten."
I turned and left before I could see more than I was meant to see.
There were rules to surviving near beings above your station.
The first was knowing when not to understand.
The second was obeying when their shadows told you to leave.
I pushed my thoughts back into order as I moved toward the wall, sending messages to our false convoy teams and hidden agents. The objective remained the same as Lord Ten had designed it. Lessen the death toll where possible. Strike symbols, not homes. Use fear to cut down the next wave before it had to become a battle.
Even the arrows at the wall were wooden for a reason.
Less lethal against Low-Rank devils when aimed properly.
Lord Ten did not mind killing.
But he hated waste.
"Ceres!" I called as I climbed the inner ladder to the fighting platform. "How's the battle?"
The top of the wall smelled of sweat, pitch, wet wood, and iron. Archers crouched behind the shield line, fingers raw from repeated draws. Shield holders braced themselves every time the enemy loosed their own scattered volleys, metal ringing under impact.
Behind us, the trees had already been cleared along the road toward Leviathan City, leaving a rough strip of open ground for fallback fortifications. The stumps were fresh. The dirt still torn. Everything had been prepared exactly as Lord Ten ordered twenty years ago.
Ceres glanced at me while checking the remaining arrows.
"It's going well, but the men are slowly being pushed back. Soon it'll be more effective to let them come through the gate as planned."
His voice remained steady.
That alone impressed me.
Below, Ajuka's soldiers were beginning to walk over their own dead to continue the push. The bodies had piled high enough near the front that some used them as cover. Others slipped on blood-slick mud and vanished beneath boots.
"Getting revenge shouldn't be enough reason for most of these soldiers," Ceres said, eyes still fixed on the enemy. "Lord Ten ordered every village and city raid to leave noncombatants alone. So I'm confused by that more than anything."
I understood the question.
Most peasant devils were nomadic by habit, not preference. Few remained under one family long enough to call themselves citizens of any clan. A Low-Rank devil could spend fifty years under one lord, another hundred under someone else, then vanish into another territory if taxes, hunger, or war made staying impossible.
Even Ceres would have migrated to another clan by now if he hadn't been selected for Lord Ten's personal army.
"Remember who we're fighting," I said. "Ajuka isn't known for mercy toward his own people."
Ceres looked at me.
I continued.
"I know some of you have friends and family scattered through various armies. So it shouldn't be hard to find a few who personally never saw family again after they entered Ajuka's territory."
His expression tightened.
"His recent fights against Falbium were over the Sabnock clan, just like the extinct Buné clan," I said. "He's using his clan's methods to control his armies. Fear. Hostages. Debts. Punishments no one can prove until it's too late."
The wind dragged smoke across the wall.
"Only recently have we become the most militarized clan among the Devil Pillars. That changes how people see us, but it also changes how they fear us."
Ceres nodded slowly.
He had been learning clan politics the same way every soldier favored by Lord Ten eventually had to learn.
Quickly.
Painfully.
Without the luxury of ignorance.
Lady Sitiri had begun moving those who earned Lord Ten's approval under her direct command. Reports from the first campaign had raised many of us into minor nobility after we attacked Ajuka and Sirzechs' territories to reset the pressure Leviathan territory was about to face once Falbium was eventually pulled away.
That bought us twenty years.
Twenty years to prepare these defenses.
Twenty years to turn the most important route into Leviathan territory into a killing ground.
Mountains locked us in from the north. The Demon Forest encircled most of the territory like a living wall. Sitiri lands sat west, separated by that same forest. Every trip from the clan had to be physically moved through beast territory, turning supply lines into training exercises.
The new soldiers called it a march.
Lord Ten called it a crucible.
Survive the forest.
Reach Heart Village.
Earn absorption into the army.
That was how Sitiri became something more than an old noble house with refined manners and strong blood.
Ceres watched another enemy squad collapse under arrow fire.
"There's no need to explain more," he said quietly. "I know plenty about Ajuka personally."
His grip tightened around the wall railing.
"If you can put in a good word for me after this battle, I want to take part in the counterstrikes Lord Ten is no doubt planning."
I looked at him for a moment.
Then nodded.
"That's a simple request after this performance."
Above us, the Underworld sky rumbled.
Below us, Ajuka's men prepared for another charge.
Ceres raised his hand again.
"Archers ready!"
Scene 3
Ten POV
"I can head out now," Mari said.
I ignored the offer for a moment and watched Ceres prepare the gate.
The battle had reached its closing arc.
The enemy thought exhaustion had opened a weakness. They saw fewer arrows. Slower reloads. Shield holders shifting their footing. Men breathing hard behind the wall. All of it looked like collapse from the outside.
Good.
Let them believe it.
Ceres ordered the gate crew into position while the archers above shifted to the inner firing line. Shield holders took both flanks, metal plates dented and scratched from repeated impacts. Some shields had been punctured in two or three places, but they had done their job.
The gate creaked.
Ajuka's soldiers surged forward.
Just as expected.
They thought it would drop.
Instead, the men near the gate opened the mouth of the trap.
The first devils reached the makeshift bridge with desperate speed. More followed, packed too tightly to retreat. Ceres waited until enough bodies crowded the planks.
Then he gave the signal.
Oil poured from above.
Human oil.
Thick. Black. Clinging.
The soldiers looked up too late.
A torch followed.
The bridge became a sheet of fire.
Screams rose so sharply that even some of my men flinched.
Devils were resistant to heat by mortal standards, but resistance meant very little when burning oil stuck to armor straps, hair, wings, and faces. The fire forced the first true retreat of the day. Men shoved each other backward. Some threw themselves into the moat. Others tore at their own gear in panic.
I had already locked onto my opponent.
Ajuka.
The mad scientist stood far beyond the field, preparing a spell large enough to answer the wall itself.
Green demonic energy gathered above his magic circle, spiraling with unnatural precision. Not wild. Not wasteful. Calculated down to the smallest fluctuation.
"If we're playing like that," I murmured, "then I have a big move for you too."
He had decided to burn down the village.
So I would teach him the cost of aiming too wide.
I forced my Domain of Force to manifest and let my demonic lightning give it shape. Black lightning crawled through the air, bending around invisible pressure until a bow formed in my hand.
Force for structure.
Lightning for body.
Demonic energy for compatibility.
The weapon hummed like a storm trapped inside a bone cage.
I reached back and pulled one silver feather from my wing.
Pain flickered through my shoulder, sharp but useful. I coated the feather in lightning, then forced its form to enlarge until it mimicked an arrow. The shaft stretched. The tip sharpened. The veins of the feather burned black as Force Laws locked around it.
Then I added the final surprise.
Demonic flame.
Enough to destroy the feather after use.
I did not trust Ajuka enough to let him study anything that came from my body.
"Zeus's lightning sent me into this world," I said softly. "Yet I triggered a Heavenly Tribulation to resonate within it. Instead of vanishing into mist as ordained, my spirit remains."
I pulled the arrow back.
The bow screamed.
Ajuka's spell fired first.
A green beam blasted from his magic circle, tearing across the field with enough force to flatten the mud beneath its path. Soldiers on both sides dropped as the pressure passed over them.
I released.
My arrow met the beam head-on.
For a breath, size lied.
Ajuka's attack was larger. Brighter. Wider. It looked like the kind of spell lesser commanders would call unbeatable simply because it filled more of the sky.
Then my arrow pierced through it.
Black lightning drilled into green energy, splitting the beam from the inside. Force Laws compressed the path around the arrow until the spell buckled instead of pushing forward.
Ajuka launched a second spell.
Then a third.
Both intercepted the arrow before it reached him.
I pulled another feather.
Repeated the act.
This time, he abandoned the clash.
Layered magic circles bloomed around him, one after another, forming a defense so dense the air distorted around his body. The second arrow slammed into the barrier, shattered three layers, pierced two more, then stopped barely short of his chest.
Our eyes met across the battlefield.
A heartbeat later, the delayed sonic boom hit.
Both arrows detonated pressure backward.
Low-Rank soldiers on both sides folded over and vomited. Some collapsed entirely. Even a few Middle-Rank devils staggered, clutching their ears as blood ran between their fingers.
The field went quiet in pieces.
First the screams.
Then the orders.
Then the desperate chanting from Ajuka's side.
I let the bow dissolve.
"Do you want to continue," I called, "or will you retreat before your elites in the forest die?"
Ajuka's expression did not change much.
But his eyes did.
We both knew the deciding fight had never been at the wall.
It was in the forest.
His hidden force had been discovered. My men had surrounded them after a day of pressure, delays, and false openings. This assault was already lost. Continuing would not change that.
Ajuka was many things.
Wasteful was not one of them.
Not when the numbers no longer served his curiosity.
He turned his back and left.
Exactly as expected.
After that clash, he would reevaluate me. My position. My growth. My instability. My usefulness. My threat level compared to the rest of the Satans.
Most likely, he would return his attention to Falbium.
Serafall was no longer an easy target.
Even the likelihood of him moving against Beelzebub City had decreased unless he coordinated with the other Satans.
The wall erupted into cheers.
I ignored them.
My demonic energy finally stabilized fully inside my body.
When I exhaled, minor laws of Evil and Lightning mixed in the air like black sparks. My crowns manifested openly above me, one after another, no longer content to remain hidden.
Across the Underworld, eyes turned toward me.
Devils.
Gods.
Things pretending to be neither.
I stayed where I was.
Days passed with me standing in that same spot, refusing to disrupt the natural process of building the next step. My demonic energy was no longer fighting me, but that did not make it harmless.
The demonic fire I created had become a bridge to my true Domain.
It also became a restriction.
A limiter.
A cage with a purpose.
Without it, I could jump ranks through energy capacity alone.
With it, I would have to grow properly.
Annoying.
Useful.
Necessary.
Scene 4
Lucifer Territory
"Tod, are the carts in place?"
I pulled my cloak lower, hiding more of my face as I took my seat at the tavern table where my brothers-in-arms had gathered for the final check.
The tavern was loud enough to protect a whisper.
Drunken soldiers shouted over dice games. Servants moved between tables with pitchers in hand. Smoke from cheap lamps stained the rafters, mixing with the smell of roasted meat, spilled ale, sweat, and old wood. Outside, Lucifer City glowed with arrogant wealth, every main road lit and patrolled as if no enemy could ever reach this deep into their territory.
Tod leaned closer.
"Yes," he whispered. "I just finished verifying it during my guard duty. I marked each one with white chalk. A sun. Once you hit your cart, don't wait for anyone. Escape the city."
His eyes moved around the table.
"We have the most important target out of everyone. Making it back means you'll be rewarded handsomely. Anyone who doesn't make it back has already left their family information with Rook. They'll receive payment whether we succeed or die."
No one smiled.
That was comfort enough.
Everyone at the table wore different clothing.
Farmer. Teacher. Store servant. Minor clerk. Two dressed as lesser heirs from the families that had sworn loyalty to the new Lucifer title during the civil war twenty years ago.
Only one man matched me with a cloak.
The merchant.
He had been bringing in barrels of Human Fire Water over the course of years, always slow, always legal, always boring enough to be ignored.
That had been Lord Ten's instruction.
Be ordinary long enough to become invisible.
Each of us had been selected from the original class of students under Lord Tenebris. Each of us had volunteered for a mission deep inside Lucifer territory by remaining behind during the chaos of earlier movements. Supplies had been smuggled in over peaceful years while every Satan prepared for the next round of wars against the others.
Peace was often the best time to build a knife.
"To the Sun," Tod whispered.
We accepted the drinks from a servant and took one last drink together.
The ale tasted bitter.
No one complained.
One by one, the others began to dissolve into the crowd.
I ordered a second drink and swallowed it quickly to steel my nerves.
The merchant gave me a slight nod.
He would be the only one to remain behind long enough to monitor the crowd.
I left without looking at him twice.
The walk took less than thirty minutes.
Lucifer City was lavish in the way old tyrants preferred. Tall black towers. Wide roads. Carved archways. Statues placed at intersections to remind every passerby who ruled the streets. The inner wall loomed ahead, polished and reinforced by spells that had cost more than most villages would see in a century.
My target stood just behind it.
The temple.
Out of everyone in our group, I was the only one with personal history tied to this clan. Most devils would never dare commit what came next. If I were found out, my bloodline would be hunted by every devil family that wanted to prove loyalty, outrage, or fear.
But I had no proper bloodline left to protect.
"Well, Lucifer," I whispered. "I told you to kill me back then. Look at us now. A dead man and a clanless bastard."
My mouth tightened.
"Aunt Gabriel will at least be happy knowing this blasphemy temple is burning."
The guards at the gate straightened when I approached.
Fear did what forged papers could not.
They recognized enough of the old ritual signs on my clothing to let me pass without asking questions. Or maybe they simply did not want to be the men who delayed a servant of one of Lucifer's old projects.
I ignored them.
My eyes lifted to the temple.
It was modeled after Greek designs but twisted wrong. Tall columns. Deep steps. A triangular roof carved with inverted symbols belonging to the ones who had once sheltered me from the horrors Bael liked to inflict on the scraps that survived his master.
The entire structure had been carved from black stone pulled straight from the Underworld's deeper grounds. Souls could be seen inside the walls if one knew how to look. Silent faces pressed against the stone, mouths open in endless horror.
I could see them clearly.
A side effect of my bastardized Azazel bloodline.
A failed attempt by Lucifer to copy his sister's Domain into devil form.
Death touched me lightly.
Enough to see.
Enough to suffer.
Not enough to save.
The project had turned into a nightmare when Lucifer gathered his various experiments across the territory for the Great War. Most were buried. Some were praised. A few were locked into places like this and renamed holy work by devils who had long forgotten what holy meant.
"I'm later than I promised," I whispered, stepping inside. "But I can't exist in the same world as the place trapping my sister."
Servants had already placed the liquid inside.
Some out of fear.
Some for coin.
Some because they hated this place almost as much as I did.
The only thing left was the torch in my hand.
The central hall opened beneath a ceiling high enough to make voices vanish upward. At the far end stood a statue of Lucifer before the Fall, carved with silver wings he no longer deserved. Not his burning wounded wings. Not the cursed things he carried after rebellion.
Silver wings.
Holy posture.
Beautiful robes.
A lie made stone.
Even the clothing carved onto him looked too pure for the man I remembered.
I circled the statue slowly, judging each corner, each support, each shadowed angle.
Then I found them.
Over three dozen jars hidden behind the base.
More than enough.
I took a deep breath and grabbed one, cracking it open slightly before pouring its black liquid across the others. The smell hit immediately. Sharp. Chemical. Human. Wrong in a way no Underworld flame could replicate.
I carried the broken jar toward the exit.
At the doorway, I looked back one final time.
The souls in the walls wailed silently.
My sister's presence trembled somewhere beneath the stone.
I emptied the jar.
Placed the torch on top.
Then turned and walked away.
I did not look back when the first explosion went off.
The sound hit like an earring scream through the city, sharp enough to rattle windows and send birds bursting from rooftops. Heat rolled through the street behind me. Guards shouted. Bells began to ring.
I kept walking.
Then more fires flared across the night.
Dozens.
Each one placed by one of ours.
The city erupted into confusion.
Citizens rushed into the streets carrying buckets. Soldiers sprinted in every direction. Officers screamed conflicting orders while smoke climbed above Lucifer City in black pillars that blotted out the purple light overhead.
This fire would not be stopped by common devils.
It would require High-Rank magic.
And every High-Rank devil forced to stop a fire was one less ready to march.
I slipped into the alleys between buildings, using memory more than sight. Side streets. Drainage paths. Servant passages. Old escape lanes from a city that had once swallowed people like me without bothering to remember our names.
The merchant's carts waited near the side gate where I had arranged them.
Wooden statues filled the back, stacked in awkward rows for transport to villages. I climbed between them, pressing myself into the narrow gap and pulling a canvas sheet over my body.
Even the merchant did not know my exact escape plan.
Lord Ten had ordered that too.
No one could betray what they did not know.
As Lucifer City burned behind me, I closed my eyes and listened to the bells.
For the first time in years, they sounded afraid.
Scene 5
Star POV
"Princess Star, the final group has finished moving into position. We can begin the attack when you're ready."
I stared at the Lork clan palace.
It had once been beautiful.
That was the cruel thing about weak houses. They often spent the most effort pretending their decline was taste instead of desperation. The palace rose from a low hill in pale stone and dark glass, surrounded by gardens that had not been maintained properly in years. Half the outer lanterns were dead. Several watchtowers had too few guards. The banners hanging from the walls had faded badly enough that the family crest looked like a memory of itself.
They had already lost most of their lands to my clan.
This palace was the final weight.
The final symbol.
The final property I would use to restart the rise of the Star clan.
"We aren't enemies, Lork clan," I said softly, though no one inside could hear me. "But as fellow minor clans who lack True Original Devils, you missed your chance when Vers Lork grew loose-lipped about what he was earning for your family."
Vers's death had come far later than many heirs would have allowed.
That alone showed how weak Serafall's leadership had been before Tenebris arrived.
Rumors of him claiming Leviathan City had spread too widely. What should have remained a whispered bargain among desperate houses became an open secret. Servants knew. Lesser heirs knew. Even soldiers knew, though most pretended otherwise because angering a noble over truth was often deadlier than lying.
Tenebris's arrival at the capital twenty years ago had been unannounced.
That was what made it disastrous.
He caught everyone with their hands in the jar.
Lork had been the worst offender, laying claim to something the rest of us were either too weak or too smart to name aloud. We had all made deals with Serafall in one form or another. Promises. Land grants. Court influence. Future protections.
Mine had remained stuck in limbo.
A promise that one day the Star clan would receive enough fertile land to rebuild properly.
One day.
A phrase nobles used when they wanted loyalty without payment.
Then Tenebris came.
For most heirs, his arrival lowered their position. Those who could not justify an office in Leviathan's court were quietly pushed down the order. Influence shifted toward usefulness. Blood alone stopped being enough.
For me, it brought more benefits than losses.
Ethos had demonstrated enough ability to begin taking command of different court sectors.
Merci had demonstrated his ability to lie through his teeth while slaughtering his own people and Lork's men alike in an effort to hide his theft.
Even now, the fear rolling off Merci had not stopped.
He was terrified of the Sitiri maids.
Good.
He should be.
Their records had ruined better men than him.
The palace below remained quiet, unaware that its final hour had already arrived.
My soldiers waited in the dark. Star clan devils. Hired blades. A few defectors who had decided the Lorks were finished and wished to be on the winning side before dawn proved them correct.
I looked at the palace one last time.
There was no mercy in conquest when the defeated could not accept defeat.
"Our kind doesn't do well when we lose," I said. "Make sure no one survives."
The order left my mouth cleanly.
Too cleanly.
The attack began.
Magic circles lit the night in pale starlight. The first explosions struck the outer watchtowers, collapsing two before alarms could fully rise. Soldiers poured through the broken side gate while assassins moved toward the servant entrances. Screams followed a moment later.
I stood still and accepted the weight of my actions.
For myself.
For my sister.
For the chance to lead a true clan instead of inheriting a dying name dressed in old pride.
If that cost me, then it cost me.
If it forced me into engagement through the Sitiri clan, then so be it.
Some futures were not offered.
They were taken before someone stronger remembered to deny them.