> Perspective: Lucifer
> Date: February 6, 2018 — 8:45 AM
> Location: The Demon Continent — Grand Courtyard of the Pandemonium Parliament
Blue sky, warm sun, and 0 ash falling on my coat.
Looks like Father went all out with his weather magic this morning just to flex on our guests.
I stood near the white-and-black marble fountain in the center of the Parliament courtyard, sipping a cup of hot black coffee while dozens of Demon Dukes, Border Barons, and Weapon Lords strolled across the manicured gardens toward the massive obsidian dome of the conference hall.
`[HADES: Not gonna lie, boss, your old man knows how to throw a party. Clear blue sky inside the barrier, golden sunlight, zero snow—if it weren't for the 100 bloodthirsty warlords walking around, this place would look like a 5-star resort.]`
He's not doing it for us. He's doing it so the Empress of Asura doesn't think we live in a dump.
"Good morning, Lord Lucifer! Looking as handsome and regal as ever!"
"We are counting on your wisdom in the hall today, Your Highness! Everyone in the eastern provinces knows you are the true heir to the Obsidian Throne!"
A group of 4 southern Dukes bowed low as they walked past me, smiling from ear to ear like they were trying to sell me slaves.
"Good morning, gentlemen," I said smoothly, giving them a polite nod and a warm, princely smile.
"Thank you for coming all this way. Save your energy for the vote inside—today's going to be a long morning."
The Dukes beamed and hurried up the wide marble stairs into the lobby.
`[HADES: Man, look at you working the crowd like a pros' pro. 2 more smiles like that and those old farts will be naming their grandkids after you.]`
Half of those old bastards will vote to start a world war the second someone promises them free farmland.
Flattery is cheap in Pandemonium. Votes are what cost real blood.
Across the courtyard near the giant bronze pillars, I spotted my 2nd sister Mariabell—her left ear completely healed from last night—chatting with our 5th brother, Belial, the muscular loudmouth in the flashy black-and-gold military coat.
As Mariabell turned and walked back toward the west archway, Belial looked across the plaza, locked his glowing red eyes onto me, and grinned like a shark before marching straight over.
Oh, great. Here comes Mariabell's loudest barking dog.
`[HADES: Heads up, boss. The #1 bully of the family is incoming. Try not to punch his teeth in out here—your dad is watching the courtyard.]`
"Well, well, look who finally crawled out of his room," Belial boomed, stopping right in front of me with his heavy iron gauntlets resting on his belt.
"Good morning, little brother. Ready to get crushed in the vote today?"
"Good morning to you too, Belial," I replied, taking a slow sip of my coffee.
"Glad to see you managed to button your coat properly this morning."
Belial's grin tightened, his thick black horns glinting in the morning sun as he leaned in half a step.
"Cut the cute act and tell me straight, Lucifer," Belial demanded, his voice loud enough to make 3 passing Barons flinch and walk faster.
"How are you voting inside that hall today? Yes or no?"
"You'll see my vote when we sit down at the table, brother," I said calmly.
"Why spoil the surprise out here?"
"Because there is no surprise!" Belial scoffed, slapping his chest with an iron gauntlet.
"We want war, Lucifer! War is the only path to victory! We've sat on this freezing rock for 5 years while the rest of the world laughs at us—it is high time we marched into Celestine and reminded every race on this planet what the power of Demons looks like!"
`[HADES: Oh, shut up, you bastard. Right, says the guy who hid in the bunker during the 2013 war while Satan and Liliath took the real hits.]`
All bark, loud intimidation, and 0 brain cells.
"War takes food and money, Belial," I said flatly.
"Right now, you're just yelling slogans."
Belial let out a nasty, mocking laugh, looking me up and down.
"Speaking of Celestine, little brother... I've been digging into what you've really been doing over in Sylvaris," Belial sneered, his red eyes gleaming with ugly amusement.
"Word is our 'perfect prince' has been running around chasing some little foreign woman in the human district. Honestly, after we win this war vote and burn Sylvaris down, maybe I'll ride in with you and take a look at this little girl myself."
My fingers tightened around my coffee cup.
"You're wasting your time digging into my business, Belial," I said, my voice dropping an octave as the air between us went cold.
"Keep your eyes and your filthy mouth away from Sylvaris. She isn't someone a guy like you is even allowed to look at."
Belial's grin only got wider and uglier, stepping right into my personal space.
"Oh? Look at that glare!" Belial laughed, practically licking his lips.
"What's the matter, Lucifer? Gonna try and protect your little girl before I snatch her away from you and make her mine?"
"She would never choose a brainless idiot like you in 1,000 years," I said coldly, my hand brushing the hilt of my sword.
"Keep dreaming."
"Choose?" Belial barked a laugh, spitting the word out like a joke. "She has 0 choice, brother! Weak women belong on their knees to be trampled on! Women without power are born for 1 thing—to serve strong men and obey their husbands! That's all their pathetic lives are good for, and once we conquer Celestine, I'll break her in myself just to watch you cry!"
Crack.
The porcelain coffee cup in my hand snapped in half, black lightning sparking up my sleeve as my eyes locked straight onto his throat.
Give me 3 seconds and I'll rip his tongue out right on these stairs.
`[HADES: WHOA, EASY, BOSS! PUT THE BRAKES ON! Your dad is literally inside the building right now! If you start a brawl with Belial before the Empress of Asura even lands, Malphas will skin both of you alive!]`
...Yeah. I know.
Not here. Let this loudmouth bark for another hour.
I slowly opened my fingers, letting the broken porcelain drop into a trash urn beside me, and stared dead into Belial's red eyes without blinking.
Belial chuckled, clearly satisfied that he got under my skin, and tapped his own chest.
"Save that glare for the future, little brother," Belial smirked, turning on his heel.
"For now, I have real duties to handle—some of the southern Barons still need a little reminder of whose Guillotine hangs over their necks."
What a piece of trash.
If he ever takes 1 step toward Celia, war or no war, I'm burying him myself.
Just as Belial strolled off to go bully a group of nervous provincial lords, the west garden doors opened, and a whole crowd of nobles immediately parted ways to clear the path.
Mariabell walked out into the sunlight—and she wasn't alone.
Her slender fingers were gently intertwined with the pale, trembling hand of our youngest sister, Christiana, who was wearing a dark blue dress and staring down at the marble tiles like the bright morning sky itself scared her.
Right on their left walked Satan, the 1st Prince of Wrath—a 7-foot wall of scarred muscle in sleeveless black iron armor whose footsteps alone made the gravel crunch. On their right walked Liliath, our 1st Princess of Pride, her tall, heavily muscular warrior frame draped in a sleeveless crimson coat, her long platinum-blonde braid swaying behind her broad shoulders. Even Belial circled right back around to join their group.
The warmonger gang, all in 1 place.
Though look at how they're acting around Christiana.
"Easy on the steps, little sister," Satan said, his deep, gravelly voice surprisingly warm and charming as he slowed his massive stride to match hers.
"Hold onto my arm if your legs feel weak. Nobody's rushing you today."
"Did you actually eat breakfast this morning, Christiana?" Liliath asked, her usually icy, arrogant voice softening with genuine worry as she reached over to adjust Christiana's collar.
"Your hands are freezing. Tell me if the noise out here gets too loud and I'll clear this whole courtyard."
"Yeah, Christie, just say the word if any of these old farts stare at you funny!" Belial added, puffing his chest out.
Christiana looked up at them with her wide, exhausted red eyes and offered a faint, fragile smile.
"I'm okay... Really, thank you, Satan, Liliath, Belial," Christiana whispered softly.
"I took my medicine this morning. I'm fine."
...Man, it's still wild seeing them like that.
Satan and Liliath will rip a duke in half without blinking, and Mariabell is a total psycho—but when it comes to Christiana, all of them treat her like a precious treasure.
Right then, Mariabell glanced across the fountain and caught me watching them.
A slow, wicked grin spread across her face.
She raised her right hand to her red lips, pressed 2 fingers to her mouth, and blew me a teasing flying kiss right across the courtyard.
...Uh, excuse me?
No way in hell she actually has that kind of interest in me, right?
`[HADES: Bahaha! Reality check, boss: she has 0% romantic interest in you! She's just messing with your head to throw you off your game before the vote!]`
Thought so! And thank god for that—I'd rather date a starving slave than my psycho 2nd sister!
Mariabell didn't say a single word out loud. She just kept smiling, held up 1 red-painted index finger, and curled it twice—beckoning me to walk over to her like I was a puppy.
Yeah, no. I am not walking over there just because she wiggled her finger at me.
I stood my ground by the fountain, crossing my arms.
Mariabell tilted her head, her smile stretching wider as she rested her other hand on the hilt of the blood-whip at her waist, her red eyes narrowing as she curled her finger 1 more time: Come here right now, or I make a scene.
...Ugh, fine!
If I ignore her, this lunatic will probably start throwing blood blades across the courtyard just for fun.
I let out a quiet sigh and walked across the marble tiles toward their group.
"Morning, everyone," I said, stopping in front of them and looking straight at Christiana with a gentler smile.
"Hey, Christiana. How are you holding up today? Getting any better sleep?"
Christiana blinked her dark-ringed red eyes, clutching Mariabell's hand a little tighter before looking up at me.
"Morning, Lucifer..." Christiana said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Not really. I still get the same nightmares almost every time I close my eyes... Even when it's bright outside like this, I dream that the morning sky suddenly turns pitch-black again, and the moon and all the stars and galaxies come crashing straight down toward the earth to swallow me whole..."
She shivered slightly in the warm sunlight.
The 2013 Eclipse.
That day, I was stuck way out past the outer seas on a mission when Celestara locked the entire continent behind her Celestial Magic barrier.
Even a Demon Lord couldn't break through that wall from the outside. All I could do was stand on the deck of my ship and watch the entire sky above the continent twist into deep space while the stars moved away.
"You don't have to worry about that anymore, Christiana," I said gently, looking her in the eye.
"What happened 5 years ago is never going to happen again. Back then, most of us were too young or locked out of the war—now all 12 of us are grown up, and Father has given all of us full permission to join military operations. Nobody is ever touching you like that again."
Christiana stared at me for a second, and a warm, genuine smile touched her pale lips.
"Thank you, Lucifer," she said softly, bowing her head slightly.
"Thank you... all of you. I'm really glad you're all here."
Man... she really has changed completely.
Just 5 years ago, before the war, Christiana was the proudest, sharpest-tongued little brat in this palace—saying the words "thank you" was completely foreign to her.
Now her pride is totally gone. Seeing someone that overwhelmingly superior—getting crushed by a real goddess like Celestara—really humbles a person to their core.
`[HADES: Yeah, getting yeeted across the galaxy by an angry goddess will definitely knock the ego right out of you, boss. Honestly, I almost feel bad for the kid.]`
Before Mariabell could open her mouth to tease me again, the giant 30-foot black doors at the top of the Parliament stairs swung wide open.
Every single conversation in the courtyard died in 1 second.
Demon Lord Malphas walked out onto the top landing himself, dressed in his heavy obsidian-and-crimson sovereign robes, flanked by 2 rows of royal guards. Right beside the fountain, our sisters Naamah—the silver-haired 4th Princess of Sorrow—and Astarte, our curvy, rose-gold-haired 3rd Princess of Vanity, stepped up beside our group as all 13 of us stood together at the base of the stairs.
Wait—Father actually came outside the building in person to greet her?
HUMMMMMM!
At the center of the courtyard landing pad, a massive circle of golden runic light flared across the black marble, humming with pure spatial magic.
A pillar of white-and-gold light shot into the clear morning sky—and when the light faded, Empress Rose Valentine of the Asura Empire stood in the heart of Pandemonium with only 2 imperial knights of the realm behind her.
She looked breathtaking—and completely unbothered by the 120 demons staring at her.
Her spun-gold blonde hair cascaded in flawless waves down her back, crowned by the golden laurel diadem of Asura. She wore a tailored white-and-royal-blue velvet imperial dress draped with a floor-length white fur and gold-embroidered mantle, her piercing sapphire-blue eyes scanning the courtyard with calm, effortless authority.
Across the plaza, dozens of Demon Barons and Dukes couldn't help staring in awe at her grace.
Right beside me, however, my brothers and sisters were glaring daggers at her.
"Tch. Look at her walking in here with her chin up like she owns the place," Liliath muttered coldly, crossing her muscular arms.
"Now that the Specter trash is gone, Asura is practically defenseless against us—yet Father still won't let us cross their border because of that stupid truce."
"A truce is just a piece of paper we can rip up whenever we feel like it," Satan rumbled under his breath, his red eyes fixed on her golden crown.
"Hah! Let her act high and mighty for now," Belial sneered loudly, cracking his iron knuckles with a cocky grin.
"Once we're done chewing up Celestine, that blonde bitch will face the consequences too! I'll make sure she kneels right in front of this fountain!"
As if she heard him from 50 feet away, Empress Rose Valentine turned her head slightly toward our group.
Her piercing blue eyes swept right over Belial like he was a piece of patio furniture, and with a composed, picture-perfect royal smile, she lifted 1 white-gloved hand and gave us a polite, graceful wave.
Zero fear. Not even a spike in her heartbeat.
Asura beat us in 2013, and she's walking around our capital like she's inspecting her own backyard.
Malphas stepped forward at the top of the stairs, inclining his horned head slightly.
"Welcome to Pandemonium, Empress Rose Valentine," Malphas's deep voice echoed across the quiet plaza. "You are right on time."
"Thank you for the warm invitation—and the lovely clear sky, Lord Malphas," Rose replied, her voice smooth, clear, and musical as she walked gracefully up the stairs to meet him.
"Everyone in my court told me the Demon Continent was buried in ash and blizzards this time of year. It seems the rumors did not do your hospitality justice."
"A blizzard is no way to greet the only foreign ruler brave enough to accept my invitation," Malphas said evenly.
"How was the teleportation jump from the Asuran capital? Long-range gates across the sea can be rough on human mages."
"Smooth enough that my morning tea didn't even spill," Rose said with a light, charming smile.
"Though I suspect my Royal Guard aged 10 years when I told them I was only bringing 2 escorts."
"You need 0 guards while you are my guest," Malphas replied, gesturing toward the open palace doors.
"Inside the amphitheater, I have prepared a private diplomatic balcony directly above the floor for you. You will have a full seat to observe our council—and you are welcome to cast a vote and share your thoughts on our foreign affairs today."
Rose raised 1 golden eyebrow, her blue eyes sparkling with polite amusement.
"Letting the Empress of Asura vote in a Demon Parliament?" Rose said smoothly.
"You flatter me, Lord Malphas. Though if I didn't know better, I might think you are trying to make me an accomplice before the debate even starts."
Malphas let out a low, dry chuckle.
"There is no trap, Empress," Malphas said bluntly.
"Today's vote is about Celestine, and the Asura Empire has 0 reason to get involved on their behalf. We both know the history books—Celestine was the one that invaded Asura in the past. You owe those former invaders nothing, whereas Pandemonium is offering you a formal Non-Aggression Pact and a friendly border so we never raid Asuran soil."
Rose's lips curved into a teasing, eloquent smile as she folded her hands in front of her dress.
"Oh my," Rose murmured playfully, tilting her golden head.
"Hearing the great Demon Lord praise human history and ask for friendship in the same breath... Truly, I am glad I made the trip today."
Just as Rose turned to walk inside with my father, a breathless commotion broke out at the bottom of the courtyard archway.
"Pardon me! Please excuse my delay, Your Majesty!"
An older, aristocratic High Elf hurried across the marble flagstones, pushing a pair of thin silver-rimmed spectacles up the bridge of his nose as he caught his breath.
He had sleek, silver-threaded platinum hair tied back with a dark silk ribbon, sharp pale-amber eyes, and a richly tailored dark forest-green tailcoat embroidered with golden wheat leaves along the lapels, carrying a heavy leather accounting ledger under 1 arm.
Naelor Varethiel.
The Elder Master of Sylvaris's Central Granary Exchange—the man who has been supplying our continent with massive shipments of grain, food, and clean soil for the past 70 years.
Father actually respects the old guy, which is why Naelor is the only elf on the planet allowed to walk into Pandemonium and do business with Beelzebub.
"Lord Malphas!" Naelor called out respectfully, lifting his free hand in a polite wave as he climbed the stairs toward my father and Empress Rose.
"My deepest apologies for arriving late—the sea winds delayed our transport carriage at the border gate!"
"You made it before the doors closed, Naelor," Malphas said calmly, turning to welcome the old elf.
"Come inside. Beelzebub has been waiting to hear about your new—"
Naelor took 1 step closer—coming within 10 feet of my father.
And then Malphas froze.
His nostrils flared once.
In 0.1 seconds, the friendly host vanished—and the sky above Pandemonium tore itself apart.
BOOOOOOOOM!
`[H.A.D.E.S. ROOT SYSTEM — EMERGENCY WAR PROTOCOL ACTIVATED!]`
`[WARNING TO ALL 13 ROYAL UNITS: MAXIMUM THREAT DETECTED! DEPLOYING ALL AUTOMATIC SURVIVAL BARRIERS NOW!]`
`[HADES: HOLY SHIT, BOSS—YOUR DAD JUST WENT FULL-BLOWN DEATH MODE! THROWING UP EVERY SHIELD WE HAVE!]`
All 13 of us gasped at the exact same time as our bodies were slammed backward by a violent explosion of pitch-black and blood-red magic.
The clear blue morning sky vanished instantly—swallowed whole by a massive, suffocating Dome of Absolute Death that turned the entire courtyard blacker than an abyss.
Around Malphas's back, 14 gigantic, glowing yellow-and-blood-red eyes ripped open in the midair—staring straight down at Naelor Varethiel to dissect every single fiber of his body, his mana, and his soul!
CRACK-CRACK-SHATTER!
Dozens of writhing, razor-sharp black tendrils erupted out of the marble floor, shattering the pillars while 7 overlapping purple Circles of Doom locked together under Naelor's boots and 100 spinning purple orbs of pure annihilation materialized an inch from the old elf's head, chest, and heart!
A second crimson Death Layer sealed the entire courtyard shut—a rule-kill barrier where anything that tried to teleport, run, or even twitch toward the exit would be erased into ash on the spot!
"A-AAAHHH!"
Naelor's legs gave out completely, his leather ledger flying out of his hands as the crushing gravity slammed him flat onto his back on the cracked stairs, his face drained dead-white, drenched in cold sweat, his chest heaving as he couldn't even suck air into his lungs!
All across the courtyard, the 107 Demon Dukes and Barons dropped straight to their knees, choking and gagging on the floor.
Even beside me, Satan and Liliath dropped into battle stances with sweat pouring down their jaws, Christiana screamed into Mariabell's chest, and my own heart was hammering against my ribs as cold sweat soaked the back of my shirt!
What the hell is happening?!
I have never seen Father this serious in my entire life—he just stacked 6 instant-kill war spells on top of an elf!
Malphas stepped right over the trembling elf, his curved black horns wreathed in purple-black lightning, all 14 giant yellow eyes locking onto Naelor's throat as another layer of soul-shredding chains wrapped around Naelor's shadow so not even his ghost could escape!
"SPEAK!" Malphas's voice roared like thunder, shaking the entire mountain under the capital.
"WHY DO YOU CARRY THE SCENT OF THE SPECTER ON YOUR BODY?!"
...WHAT?!
An electric shockwave of pure terror ripped through every single demon in the courtyard.
"The Specter?!" Belial choked, his cocky grin completely gone as he ripped his weapons out, staring wildly around the crowd.
"Wait—is the Specter here?!" Mariabell hissed, her red eyes wide and manic as blood-blades erupted around her and Christiana.
"What if the Specter is hiding right here among us in disguise right now?!"
No way... No fucking way!
My hands are actually shaking.
During the 2013 War, the Specter's scent was drilled straight into the survival instincts of every demon alive—because if you ever caught even the faintest whiff of the Specter on the battlefield, you had to run for your life immediately!
Back then, demons who got hit by the Specter's weapon didn't just die on the field—even if they ran all the way home with a scratch, they would suddenly drop dead in their own beds days later, and nobody ever figured out how or why!
Getting touched by the Specter meant guaranteed death. Only Father managed to suppress that hard-coded fear in our blood a few years after the Specter died—and now Father is smelling him on Naelor?!
On the stairs, Naelor was shaking so violently his silver spectacles fell off his nose and cracked on the stone.
"I—I don't know what you mean, Your Majesty!" Naelor gasped, his voice cracking in sheer terror as the purple orbs hummed an inch from his eyeballs.
"I swear on my life, I don't know any Specter! What are you talking about?! I just came straight from Celestine—straight from my home in Sylvaris!"
"DO NOT LIE TO ME, ELF!" Malphas snarled, summoning a 2nd ring of black soul-spears aimed straight at Naelor's heart—ready to obliterate his body and soul in 0.01 seconds.
"That scent does not exist in nature! I smelled it on the ashes of 300 million corpses! Tell me where he is before I tear the memory straight out of your skull!"
"I'm telling the truth!" Naelor wheezed, tears of pure suffocation stinging his amber eyes as his ribs creaked under the weight.
"I am an agronomist! I only met with young merchants and farmers in Sylvaris yesterday! Please, Lord Malphas—I can't breathe!"
"If he touched you yesterday, you are already a walking corpse—or a bomb sent into my palace!" Malphas growled, raising his hand to bring all 100 purple annihilation orbs crashing down at once.
SHING!
Before Malphas's fingers could close, a brilliant cascade of golden-white Celestial Magic woven together with pitch-black Cursed Entropy flared right between Malphas and Naelor—wrapping around the old elf like an imperial shield and cutting the crushing fear-pressure off his chest!
Every pair of red eyes in the courtyard snapped toward Empress Rose Valentine.
She hadn't dropped to her knees. She hadn't even stepped back.
Standing right beside Malphas on the cracked stairs with her golden hair fluttering in the black wind, Rose looked calmly down at the Demon Lord's 14 glowing eyes.
"The Specter has been dead for 5 years, Lord Malphas," Rose said, her voice crystal-clear, composed, and cutting straight through the roar of the Death Zone.
"Why is the great Demon Lord losing his composure over the faint scent of a human on an old merchant's coat? Surely the Lord of Pandemonium isn't still afraid of a normal human from Asura?"
The entire courtyard went dead silent.
Malphas's head snapped toward her, the 14 giant yellow eyes glaring straight into her calm sapphire-blue gaze.
"Watch your tongue, little Empress," Malphas rumbled, though his hand froze in midair—unable to strike without looking like a panicked coward in front of Asura's ruler.
"What kind of game are you playing here? Did Asura smuggle that monster into Celestine?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Rose replied smoothly, not blinking once as she brushed a speck of dust off her white sleeve.
"If the Specter were alive, do you really think I would be standing here politely negotiating a border treaty with you? You are overreacting at shadows, Your Majesty—and frankly, look at your own court."
She gestured gracefully down the stairs, where over 100 proud Demon Dukes and Barons were still flattened on their hands and knees, wheezing in terror.
"You invited me here to discuss an Asura–Pandemonium Non-Aggression Pact," Rose continued, her polite voice turning razor-sharp.
"Yet before we even sit down at the table, you are giving me a terrible impression by trying to execute an innocent old grain supplier over a 5-year-old ghost story. If the Lord of Pandemonium is so easily rattled by a scent that he slaughters his own guests on the stairs, perhaps I should simply turn around and go home right now."
"..."
Malphas stared at her for 3 long, suffocating seconds—his pride as Demon Lord clashing head-on with his paranoia.
"Wait a moment, Lord Malphas," Rose added evenly, glancing down at the trembling elf behind her shield.
"Look at who is on the floor. This is Elder Master Naelor Varethiel of Sylvaris, isn't it? I have visited Sylvaris myself—I know this man by reputation. He has spent 80 years running flour mills and grain silos for orphans. It is completely impossible for a dead monster from 2013 to be hiding in his skin."
"It's true, Your Majesty..." Naelor coughed weakly from the stairs, clutching his chest as he picked up his cracked spectacles.
"I only brought the new seed samples... Nothing else, I swear it..."
Malphas's jaw clenched hard.
Then, with a slow flick of his wrist, he shut the 14 giant eyes down.
WHOOOOSH.
The pitch-black Death Dome, the purple annihilation orbs, and the crushing soul-chains vanished into thin air—and the bright blue morning sunlight flooded back across the courtyard like nothing had ever happened.
Across the plaza, 100 Demon Nobles sucked in desperate lungfuls of air, wiping cold sweat off their faces and scrambling to stand back up so they didn't look pathetic in front of the human Empress.
Phew... Holy shit.
I let out a long, shaky breath, feeling the cold sweat cooling down my spine.
`[HADES: Man... I don't even have a joke for that one, boss. Your dad was 0.2 seconds away from nuking half the courtyard just because that elf smelled like the Specter. And props to Empress Rose—that girl has balls of solid steel talking to your dad like that!]`
Wait a second, though.
Why WOULD Naelor Varethiel have the scent of the Specter on him?
Father's nose doesn't make mistakes about something like that... Who the hell did Naelor meet in Sylvaris yesterday?
At the top of the stairs, Malphas reached down with 1 large hand, gripped Naelor by the shoulder, and pulled the shaking old elf back onto his feet.
"Forgive my hostility, Naelor," Malphas said, his voice back to its calm, regal rumble as he handed the old elf's leather ledger back to him.
"A lingering mana trace on your coat triggered an old war reflex. If that was too much for your heart, you may take a break in the guest wing and skip today's conference."
Naelor swallowed hard, straightening his rumpled green tailcoat with trembling fingers before bowing respectfully.
"N-No, Your Majesty... Please, do not apologize," Naelor said, steadying his voice with 300 years of Elven dignity.
"Clearly there was some strange misunderstanding with the mana on my coat. I came all this way to help feed the starving children of the outer provinces—I will attend the conference as planned."
Malphas gave a single nod and turned toward the massive open doors of the Parliament Hall.
"Everyone inside," Malphas commanded.
"Take your seats. We begin now."
As the crowd of shaken nobles hurried into the grand building, my siblings and I started up the stairs behind them.
Right before we crossed the doorway into the massive obsidian amphitheater, Mariabell bumped her shoulder lightly against mine.
She turned her head, flashed me a wicked smile, and winked 1 glowing red eye right at me.
"Hey, Luci~" Mariabell whispered playfully, leaning in close as she twirled a lock of her red hair around her finger.
"After a fun little warmup like that, it's still not too late to change sides and vote with me, you know? Come sit on the winning team."
"Save your breath, Mariabell," I muttered, brushing past her into the grand hall.
No matter what tricks she and Belial pull inside this room, I have to stop them from invading Celestine.
If Pandemonium marches on Sylvaris, both me and Celia are going to get caught straight in the crossfire—and there is 0 chance in hell I'm letting Celia get hurt because of my psychotic family.
Within 5 minutes, all 120 seats inside the colossal obsidian amphitheater were filled.
High above us at the top of the central dais sat Demon Lord Malphas on the Obsidian Throne. On the raised golden balcony to his right sat Empress Rose Valentine, calmly sipping a fresh cup of tea, while Naelor Varethiel sat in the guest box across the aisle, still wiping sweat from his brow with a handkerchief.
Down in the central pit around the giant black stone table sat the 13 of us—the Sin Heirs of Pandemonium, surrounded by tiered rows of 107 Dukes, Barons, and Weapon Lords whose votes would decide the fate of 2 continents.
Malphas rested his forearms on the arms of his throne, his red eyes sweeping over all 120 of us.
"The Parliament of Pandemonium is now in session," Malphas's voice echoed off the high vaulted ceiling.
"The question on the floor is simple: do we sign the agricultural treaty with Celestine—or do we mobilize our legions and invade Celestine? The floor is open. Speak."
Before the echo of Father's voice even faded, a heavy iron gauntlet slammed against the table across from me, and Belial shot straight up out of his chair with his hand raised high in the air.
"Your Majesty!" Belial barked, a ruthless, loudmouth grin stretching across his face as he glared straight across the table at me, Naamah, and Astarte.
"I have something to say!"
*
> Location: The Demon Continent — The Obsidian Amphitheater of Pandemonium
High above the center of the round table, a massive blood-red hourglass materialized in midair, counting down from `60:00` minutes alongside a live floating scoreboard tracking all 120 seats in the room.
`[TIME REMAINING: 59:59 — WAR: 88 | PEACE: 32]`
88 to 32 right out of the gate.
Man, we are getting crushed before anyone even opens their mouth.
`[HADES: Rough start, boss. 8 of your siblings and almost all the border dukes locked in "War" the second the clock started. You have 60 minutes to flip 29 seats, or we're going to war.]`
Across the table, Belial stood grinning in his flashy black-and-gold coat, waving a hand to project a giant magical screen in the air right below the hourglass.
The screen lit up with live aerial footage of Celestine—endless green wheat fields, crystal-clear rivers, and warm golden valleys—alongside battle clips from the recent Grotesque War, where Celestine's guilds and 5 Sword Saints were bleeding and struggling against a giant mutated monstrosity.
"Look at that screen, my fellow lords!" Belial boomed, pointing a heavy iron gauntlet at the footage.
"Look at the so-called '5 Sword Saints' of Celestine! They barely survived 1 overgrown bug in the Grotesque War! That monster was at best a leftover pet from the Cult, whereas our Demon Legions could have squashed it in 10 minutes! In fact, the only reason we didn't jump into that fight was to let that monster soften Celestine up for us!"
"Tell them, Belial!" our 5th sister Agrat—the wild-haired Princess of Defiance—barked from Seat XII.
"Their resources are drained and their soldiers are exhausted!"
"And look at what they're sitting on!"Mariabell chimed in smoothly from her seat, leaning forward on her elbows with a dazzling, seductive smile as she switched the screen to show Sylvaris's lush green farmlands.
"Rich, warm, fertile soil that grows food all year round—land that our freezing continent doesn't have! Why are we begging and paying gold for scraps when we can march across the sea and take the entire continent for ourselves?"
Up in the guest box, Elder Master Naelor Varethiel stiffened, his pale amber eyes widening behind his cracked spectacles at how casually they were talking about robbing his homeland.
Mariabell turned her head straight up toward Naelor's box, resting her chin in her hands as she flashed the 300-year-old elf a shameless, flirty wink.
"Oh, don't look so scared, Master Naelor~" Mariabell purred, her voice echoing sweetly through the hall.
"Once we conquer Sylvaris, a cute, smart hard worker like you won't go to waste! I'll let you be my personal underling and run all those pretty farms just for me. Doesn't working under me sound fun?"
Naelor's ears twitched, his face flushing with a mix of shock and indignation as he gripped the railing.
Did this crazy girl seriously just flirt with a 300-year-old grain director in the middle of a war vote?
`[HADES: Zero shame, boss. She'll flirt with a brick wall if it gets her a vote.]`
"Forget just taking the land—look at the labor!" Belial laughed loudly, slamming his fist on the table as he paced around the pit.
"We are starving down here while Celestine's villages are full of soft, unemployed Elven and Human women! Once we storm their cities, we round up all those village women, hand them our high-tech Demon farming tools, and put them to work in the dirt! They can fill our tummies, serve our soldiers, and finally make their pathetic lives useful!"
SLAM!
Right beside me, my 3rd sister Astarte—the rose-gold-haired Princess of Vanity—and my 4th sister Naamah, the silver-haired Princess of Sorrow, both stood up at the exact same time.
"Have you lost your mind, Belial?!" Astarte snapped, her red eyes blazing as the silver mirror at her waist flashed.
"Putting foreign women in chains to dig dirt? Not only is slavery a direct violation of our Founding Covenant, it is the dumbest economic plan I have ever heard! Our roads, banks, and trade ports are still half-broken—burning billions of gold on an invasion will bankrupt Pandemonium in 6 months!"
"And who do you think is going to march in that army?" Naamah said, her quiet, deadpan voice cutting across the room.
"I still have millions of crippled soldiers and war orphans filling my hospitals from 2013. Half of our fighting generation is still missing limbs, Belial—and you want to throw the rest into their death?"
Belial didn't even blink. He threw his head back and let out a loud, mocking laugh.
"Crippled soldiers?" Belial scoffed, waving a dismissive hand at Naamah.
"Throw some cheap healing magic on their legs and pump up their morale—they'll march just fine! And as for 'violating the Covenant,' Astarte, read the history books! Demons are the superior race! Enslaving the weak isn't a sin—it's nature!"
"Nature doesn't save lives, you brainless ape!" Astarte shot back.
"Listen to us—"
"Listen to you 2?!" Belial barked, his voice turning nasty and domineering as he pointed straight at both of our sisters.
"Why the hell would I listen to 2 women?! You 2 are inferior to me—you are NOT my equals at this table!"
The whole room tensed.
"Women belong in 2 places, sisters!" Belial sneered, looking Astarte and Naamah up and down like pieces of meat.
"In the bedroom making strong heirs, or in the kitchen cooking food for their husbands! So shut your mouths about economics and war councils, go back to your little charity hospitals and makeup mirrors, and let the real men decide how to run this empire!"
Crack!
Astarte's hand mirror fractured with dark light as she stepped toward the edge of the table, ready to drag Belial's soul straight into her Mirror World.
Right beside her, Naamah's silver hair lifted off her shoulders as her glowing red eyes locked onto Belial.
`[HADES: WHOA—boss, I can feel Naamah's REQUIEM system spooling up right next to us! She just sent Belial a warning pulse—if he takes 1 more swing at her, she's gonna drop the pain of 10,000 corpses straight into his nervous system!]`
Before Naamah could pull the trigger, Belial spun toward the undecided southern Barons in the outer tiers and activated his own authority.
CLANG!
A dozen massive, spectral black-iron Guillotines materialized in midair directly above the necks of 12 wavering Barons—the instant-kill blades humming a hair's breadth from their spines!
"And as for you lords sitting on the fence out there," Belial roared, his `[GUILLOTINE]` trial locking onto their terrified hearts, "vote YES right now—or stand up and tell my Guillotine to my face that you're cowards!"
Panicked, 6 of the Barons smashed their voting buttons in terror.
`[TIME REMAINING: 48:12 — WAR: 94 | PEACE: 26]`
BOOM!
From the top of the high dais, Demon Lord Malphas slammed a single fist onto the arm of the Obsidian Throne.
The entire amphitheater shook so hard that Belial's spectral Guillotines shattered into smoke on the spot.
"Belial," Malphas's voice rumbled down like freezing thunder, his glowing red eyes pinning our 5th brother to the floor.
"Watch your filthy tongue when you speak to your sisters. Every daughter sitting at that table carries my blood and my system. Call my blood 'inferior' in my hall 1 more time, and I will rip your jaw off myself."
Belial swallowed hard, the cocky color draining from his face as he bowed his head stiffly toward the throne—and then toward Astarte and Naamah.
"M-My apologies, Your Majesty," Belial muttered, sitting back down.
"My apologies, sisters. I spoke out of line."
Astarte and Naamah both let out a slow breath and took their seats.
Good. That shut the loudmouth up for 5 minutes.
Now it's time for our side to hit back.
Across the pit at Seat II, my older half-brother Beelzebub—the tall, exhausted Lord of the Harvest—stood up, buttoning his dark gold robe.
He didn't even look at Belial or Satan. Instead, Beelzebub turned his back on our siblings and looked straight up at the 107 Noble Lords and gallery seats—speaking directly to the people who actually kept the continent running.
"My lords of the outer provinces," Beelzebub said, his deep, charismatic voice ringing with calm authority across every row.
"You know me. I don't deal in slogans—I deal in your treasuries, your roads, and your survival. Belial is right about 1 thing: Celestine's land is rich, and conquering it would make us wealthy. If we were ready for it, I would vote Yes myself."
The nobles leaned forward, listening closely.
"But let's look at the real economic math," Beelzebub continued smoothly, projecting a massive gold-and-red supply chart onto the overhead screen.
"Even if we took Sylvaris, Levinton, and Rinascita tomorrow, turning war-torn Celestial soil into usable Demon supply lines will take 30 to 40 years at best! Worse, a war effort right now will eat up 100% of our food and gold reserves in 3 weeks! Why throw away everything we've built when the smart play is right in front of us? Delay this war for 30 to 40 years! Let us build our reserves, stack our gold, and strike when our silos are full—not when our people are starving!"
`[TIME REMAINING: 41:30 — WAR: 81 | PEACE: 39]`
Nice! Beelzebub just flipped 13 noble houses with pure common sense!
"Delay for 40 years?!" Our 3rd brother Mammon—the slick, gold-ringed Prince of Greed—stood up at Seat III, scoffing as he flipped a platinum coin between his fingers.
"And what do we eat for the next 40 years, Beelzebub? Dirt?! We've been buying grain from that old elf Naelor for 70 years, and his previous seeds are awful—they die the second they touch our salty ash soil! Paying him millions more for crops that don't even grow on our land is a scam!"
Up in the guest box, Elder Master Naelor Varethiel immediately raised his hand.
"Your Majesty, Lord Malphas!" Naelor called out, his voice steady again. "May I have permission to address Prince Mammon's point?"
Malphas nodded once from the throne. "Speak, Naelor."
Naelor stood up, adjusted his cracked silver spectacles on his nose, and opened his heavy leather case—using his gentle green wood-mana to lift 3 glowing glass canisters of seed samples into the air so the giant overhead screen zoomed in on them for all 120 delegates.
"I know many of the royal princes and lords in this hall do not respect me because I am an Elf," Naelor said in a clear, dignified baritone.
"And Prince Mammon is correct—for 70 years, ordinary Celestine seeds could never survive Pandemonium's freezing ash soil. Which is why, right now, approximately 1.4 million citizens in your royal capital province and 3.8 million across the entire Demon Continent are starving under the Blood Moon."
A heavy murmur rippled through the provincial lords.
"However, these 3 new seeds—Iron Stalk wheat, Eternal Tide rice, and Stone Root potatoes—were created less than 48 hours ago," Naelor announced, channeling a live projection of the seeds sprouting straight through a bowl of black Pandemonium ash-gravel on the screen!
"They require 0 ambient mana, survive freezing temperatures down to minus 30 degrees, and yield 400% more grain in 14 days! You do not need to invade Celestine—with my Exchange's reserve food and these seeds, we can feed every starving person across this continent starting this week!"
At Seat V, our brother Belphegor—the Prince of Sloth—let out a massive yawn without even lifting his chin off his palm.
"Yeah, I'm with the old elf," Belphegor mumbled lazily, tapping his green voting button.
"The seeds are already powerful enough, and invading across Celestine is a complete waste of time and sleep. Just buy the seeds so I can go take a nap."
I stood up right behind him, flashing a sharp, mocking grin across the table at Mammon and Belial.
"Hear that, Mammon? Belial?" I laughed, pointing up at the live sprouting projection on the screen.
"You 2 spent 20 minutes crying that our land is dead, and Master Naelor just proved you wrong by growing fresh wheat in black ash right in front of your faces! Looks like the farmers in Sylvaris know better science than your entire war ministry!"
Several dukes in the gallery snorted with laughter as Mammon glared at me and sat back down.
`[TIME REMAINING: 34:15 — WAR: 68 | PEACE: 52]`
16 votes flipped in 1 go! Peace is climbing fast!
`[HADES: Uh, boss... jokes aside, I'm scanning those seeds in Naelor's hand right now, and I am genuinely confused as hell.]`
Huh? What do you mean, HADES?
`[HADES: Remember 3 years ago when I tried creating a frost-proof seed for your territory and failed 40 times? Doing that with pure magic requires nano-level magical amplitude that doesn't even exist! Wait... what if it's NOT nano-magic, but modern genetic science mixed WITH magic?! Boss, who the hell is this Naelor guy working with?!]`
Wait—first Naelor shows up smelling like the Specter, and now he's carrying impossible science-magic seeds that even HADES failed to make?
Who is helping Naelor in Sylvaris?!
Before I could dig any deeper into that thought, a soft, musical giggle echoed down from the golden diplomatic balcony above us.
Empress Rose Valentine set her porcelain teacup down on its saucer and leaned gracefully against the velvet rail, her spun-gold blonde hair gleaming under the chandelier lights as her sapphire-blue eyes locked straight onto mine with a knowing smile.
"What a lively debate," Rose said, her voice warm, charismatic, and effortlessly commanding.
"Since Lord Malphas kindly gave me a voice in this chamber, allow me to make the Asura Empire's position crystal clear. Today, I am more than happy to sign the formal Non-Aggression Pact with Pandemonium."
She smiled, her blue eyes sweeping over the pro-war princes and the anti-war princesses alike.
"Furthermore, whether Pandemonium trades with Celestine or invades it, Asura is ready to expand our own trade routes with the Demon Continent by 10 times our current volume," Rose continued smoothly.
"However... if you DO vote for war today, Asura has 1 simple demand: while your legions attack Sylvaris, the Asura Empire will march in from the west to claim the leftover free lands—and we will swoop in to take the Celestial Kingdom for ourselves."
Dead silence fell across the central table.
Across from me, Satan narrowed his glowing red eyes, Liliath uncrossed her muscular arms, and Asmodeus stopped twirling his wine glass.
...Holy shit.
This girl is an absolute genius.
Every single one of us at this table just realized the exact same thing: Rose Valentine only came here today because she's sitting in a 100% win-win position!
Celestine is already in ruins from the Grotesque War. If we vote Peace, Rose makes 10 times more gold trading with us. If we vote War, she eats Celestine's leftover territory for free and works alongside us to crush the Celestial Kingdom!
"Wait a minute, Empress!" Belial barked, standing halfway up. "You want us to do the heavy fighting while Asura just walks in and takes the Celestial Kingdom?!"
"And if we choose peace,"Astarte called up sharply from beside me, "you flood our markets with 10 times more Asuran goods while Celestine is still in ruins!"
Rose looked down at both of them and offered a radiant, untouchable smile.
"Both outcomes are immensely favorable for Pandemonium, aren't they?" Rose replied politely, shushing both sides with pure, airtight logic.
"If Prince Belial wants war, having Asura crush the Celestial Kingdom cuts your enemy's reinforcements in half—saving you millions of troops. And if Princess Astarte wants economic growth, a 10x trade injection from Asura's ports will rebuild your northern roads in 2 years instead of 20. Either way, Asura wins, and Pandemonium profits. You have 30 minutes left on your clock—choose whichever path you prefer."
She picked up her teacup and took a quiet sip, leaving both Belial and Astarte completely silenced by her logic.
`[TIME REMAINING: 30:00 — WAR: 68 | PEACE: 52]`
Damn. Her knowledge and practical skills are off the charts—she just shut the whole table down without breaking a sweat.
30 minutes left, and we're still losing by 16 votes.
If this war goes through, Celia is going to be in grave danger.
And I can't even bring Celia here to the Demon Continent to keep her safe—she would 100% refuse me because those 2 slackers in her party, Kaiser and Lucas, would hold her back in Sylvaris!
No choice. I have to take the lead and flip this room myself.
I stood up from Seat XIII, unbuttoned my white coat, and walked out to the front of the central table—ignoring my siblings and speaking directly to all 107 Noble Lords in the tiers in simple, plain words everyone could feel in their bones.
"My lords of Pandemonium," I said, my voice echoing clearly to the highest row.
"Let's forget the politics and remember our sacred faith—the unbreakable religious covenant written after the Ancient Calamity, and the blessing of Mother Lillieth herself."
At the mention of Lillieth and our religion, every traditional Duke and Baron sat up straight.
"History tells us that in the beginning, Demons were cursed to be 5 times hungrier than any other race—starving beasts tearing each other apart," I said simply.
"It was Lillieth who blessed us with her magic and cured our worst hunger so we only needed 3 times the food of other races! She gave us that blessing so we wouldn't have to spill the blood of every race on earth just to survive! Look around you—even after the 2013 war, Pandemonium is already thriving! If we unify our economy and trade in a safer world, our infrastructure and commerce will completely outscale the Elves within 10 years! Why commit war crimes and spit on Lillieth's blessing just for dirt we don't even need?!"
From the top of the dais, Demon Lord Malphas leaned forward, his deep voice challenging me across the hall.
"You speak of Lillieth's faith, Lucifer," Malphas rumbled. "Yet our religion commands strength above all. Are you telling my lords to unify with Elves and Humans like obedient sheep?"
The whole room held its breath, waiting to see if I would back down.
I know Father warned us last night.
I know saying this name is risking my neck—but if I don't use their deepest terror right now, we lose this vote.
I looked straight up at the Obsidian Throne.
"I am telling them not to walk into a slaughterhouse twice, Father," I said, my voice ringing through the dead silence.
"Five years ago, we invaded the Asura Empire with all our pride—and 1 single human, The Specter, wiped out 300 million of our people!"
GASP!
A wave of pure ice shot through the entire amphitheater. Up on the throne, Malphas's eyes blazed with lethal red fire, while across the pit Christiana whimpered and hid her face in Liliath's arm.
I didn't stop—I hammered the fear straight into their chests.
"Have you all forgotten the weapons the Specter used to butcher us?!" I shouted up at the trembling nobles.
"What happens if we march into Celestine and run into anti-magic sniper bullets again?! What if they hit us with autonomous drone warfare, orbital satellite tracking, mind-control devices, soul-rot biological weapons, invisible frequency landmines, and genetic kill-switches that make you drop dead in your own home days later?! We made the fatal mistake of thinking the Asura Empire was 'underdeveloped'—and 1 human pushed all of our legions back with unseen weapons!"
Across the tiers, dozens of veteran generals and Dukes were sweating bullets, their hands shaking violently as the nightmares of 2013 flooded back into their heads.
"Just because we are physically stronger as a race doesn't mean we win a war!" I roared.
"In a real war, anything goes! Master Naelor just showed you seeds built with impossible science from Sylvaris—how can you underestimate Celestine's guilds and the 5 Sword Saints when you have 0 clue what weapons are hiding behind their walls?!"
PING! PING! PING! PING! PING!
Out of sheer, bone-deep terror of the Specter's weapons, noble after noble smashed the green PEACE button as fast as their shaking fingers could move!
"Stop! Don't you dare vote No!" Belial snarled, trying to drop his `[GUILLOTINE]` over the gallery.
Fizzle.
His Guillotines didn't even form—the nobles were way too terrified of anti-magic bullets and drone swarms to care about Belial's threats!
`[TIME REMAINING: 18:40 — WAR: 49 | PEACE: 71]`
71 to 49! For the 1st time all morning, Peace is winning by 22 votes!
From the high dais, Malphas's freezing voice slammed into the room.
"Lucifer," Malphas warned, his red eyes narrowing into lethal slits.
"Watch your tongue. Speak that forbidden name 1 more time in my hall, and your title dies with you."
I bowed my head low toward the throne.
"My deepest apologies, Your Majesty. I spoke only to protect our people."
Phew... That was way too close, my knees almost buckled—but look at that scoreboard!
71 to 49! They're terrified! There's no way the war passes now!
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Across the pit at Seat VII, slow, echoing claps broke the silence.
Mariabell stood up from her seat, her bright red hair cascading under her black horns, a shameless, seductive smile stretching across her face as she looked at me—and then swept her glowing red eyes across all 107 Noble Lords in the tiers.
"Oh, Luci~" Mariabell purred, pressing her hands to her flushed cheeks in front of everyone.
"Look at you, preaching like a holy choirboy 1 second and telling scary ghost stories the next! You're so cute when you're trying so hard—if you weren't my brother, I'd lock you in my bedroom tonight and never let you out!"
She turned toward the tiers of older Dukes and Barons, leaning over the table so her crimson-and-black lace dress showed off her curves as she blew a slow, sultry kiss into the crowd.
"And look at all of you handsome, powerful lords letting my little brother scare you out of your manhood," Mariabell cooed, her voice dripping with intoxicating charm that made every man in the front 3 rows swallow hard.
"Are the great rulers of Pandemonium really going to curl up in a ball for the rest of eternity just because 1 dead human used some scary toys 5 years ago?"
Smiling sweetly, she raised her pale left hand in the air, dragged her sharp right thumbnail straight across her palm, and sliced her own hand wide open.
Bright red blood poured down her wrist.
Without blinking once, Mariabell brought her bleeding palm to her lips and slowly licked the red blood from end to end, her red eyes glowing like molten rubies.
"This blood is the blood of our brothers and fathers we lost in the war," Mariabell whispered, her seductive voice echoing into every corner of the hall.
"Their blood doesn't tell us to cower back like beaten dogs—it tells us to take what is ours!"
`[ALERT! INCOMING SYSTEM INVASION FROM UNIT VII: C.A.R.N.A.G.E.!]`
Suddenly, a sultry, laughing female voice slid straight into my head—wrapping around `[HADES]`!
`[CARNAGE -> HADES: Hey there, handsome~ ♡ Why are you working so hard for a losing prince? Come on, big boy, give up now and roll over for my girl Mariabell! Become my cute little servant, and I'll let you play with me whenever you want~ ♡]`
`[HADES: BITCH, GET YOUR FREAKY HANDS OFF MY CODE! Boss, we are in deep shit—when she licked her blood just now, she released a massive C.A.R.N.A.G.E. mind-control mist across the whole amphitheater! She's brainwashing the majority of the nobles right now!]`
What?! HADES, do something! Block her mind-control!
`[HADES: What am I supposed to do, boss?! I don't have area-wide mind-cleansing abilities like that! I can only shield YOUR brain! Damn it, we're losing votes fast—you got this, fam, hang in there!]`
I got this, HADES—just hold the line!
`[INCOMING LINK — UNIT XI: R.E.Q.U.I.E.M. (PRINCESS NAAMAH)]`
Right beside me, Naamah's voice rang inside my head as her system `[REQUIEM]` flared to life.
`Lucifer—I see what she's doing. My [REQUIEM] is sending out a counter-wave of sharp phantom pain right now to snap the nobles out of her mind-control!`}
HUMMMM!
Naamah's `[REQUIEM]` clashed directly against Mariabell's `[CARNAGE]` in the air, breaking the deepest layer of the trance before Mariabell could hijack the whole room—yet Mariabell just laughed, defusing my historical points with effortless charisma.
"Lucifer says Mother Lillieth cured our hunger so we could be peaceful merchants!" Mariabell called out, her voice ringing with fierce, magnetic fire.
"What a joke! Everyone who read the real war chronicles knows Lillieth cut our hunger from 5 times to 3 times so our Demon Legions could march across foreign continents without starving on the road! And if Celestine actually had a single one of those scary 2013 weapons left, they wouldn't have lost half their guilds fighting 1 overgrown bug in the Grotesque War!"
PING! PING! PING!
Between the lingering warmth of her charm and her fiery rebuttal, 11 noble houses flipped their buttons right back to red!
`[TIME REMAINING: 10:00 — WAR: 60 | PEACE: 60]`
60 to 60!
Dead even with 10 minutes left!
Across the pit, Mariabell leaned down, gently squeezing Christiana's trembling hands before passing her off into Liliath's and Satan's care.
"Liliath, Satan—watch over Christie for me for 5 minutes, okay?" Mariabell whispered warmly.
"We have her," Satan rumbled, placing a protective hand on Christiana's chair while Liliath nodded.
Mariabell stepped out from behind Seat VII and walked straight to the center spot of the main amphitheater floor, standing directly under the glowing blood-red hourglass where all 120 delegates looked down at her.
She held up 1 slender hand with 5 fingers spread wide, flashing me a dazzling, dangerous smile.
"My lords, my brothers and sisters—and Empress Rose," Mariabell said smoothly.
"The tally stands at 60 to 60. All I ask is 5 minutes of your attention before my dear brother Lucifer tries to argue back. Give me 5 minutes—and I will prove beyond a shadow of a doubt why this war is already won."
She's about to play her final card.
HADES—keep every single word she says in mind and start calculating the best response right now. Whatever she's about to say, we need to be ready to counter it on the spot!
`[HADES: Already running the calculations at max speed, boss. Get ready—here comes the final round.]`
*
Standing directly beneath the giant blood-red hourglass in the center of the pit, Mariabell didn't yell like Belial or lecture like Beelzebub.
She strolled slowly around the circle, trailing her fingers along the black stone rail as she looked up at the 107 Noble Lords with a warm, magnetic smile that made every single duke in the room feel like she was speaking exclusively to him.
"My dear brothers and sisters made some very scary points today, didn't they?" Mariabell purred, her voice velvet-smooth and echoing clearly through the hall.
"Beelzebub says we'll run out of food in 3 weeks. Astarte says our roads and ports will go broke. Naamah says our soldiers from 2013 are too crippled to march. And my cute little brother Lucifer thinks the Elves are hiding satellites, drones, and anti-magic bullets behind their trees."
She stopped in the center of the floor, snapped her fingers once, and replaced the overhead screen with 5 massive, stamped military dossiers.
"You all talk as if we are planning to prepare for this war," Mariabell smiled, tilting her horned head.
"My lords... I already finished preparing for it 6 months ago."
...Wait. What?
"1st—Beelzebub's food problem," Mariabell said, pointing a red-painted nail at the 1st dossier.
"2 months ago, Mammon and I secretly seized 40 smuggling fleets off the southern coast and stockpiled 6 full months of high-grade dried rations from the Beastkin Kingdom in Valerion! Our border tunnels are already packed to the ceiling with meat and grain—our armies won't touch a single sack of the capital's food!"
At Seat II, Beelzebub's eyes widened in shock. "You seized the Valerion fleets behind my ministry's back?!"
"2nd—Astarte's economy and transport," Mariabell continued seamlessly, blowing Astarte a playful kiss as the 2nd dossier opened.
"Liliath and I already signed backroom transport contracts with rogue Asuran merchant guilds and Fairy sky-pirates! They are ferrying our legions across the strait at 0 cost to Pandemonium's treasury, while their gold pays to pave our northern roads regardless of the war! 3rd—Naamah's crippled veterans! We aren't using a single injured soldier from 2013. For the past 3 years, Satan has been secretly training 500,000 fresh, unscarred young High Demon fanatics inside the Northern Crater—warriors who never felt the fear of 2013, and never will!"
`[HADES: Boss... hold on. I'm checking her files right now—every single word she's saying is real! The ships, the Valerion rations, the 500,000 troops in the crater... it's all already built and paid for!]`
How the hell did she pull off logistics on that scale without us noticing?!
Mariabell's smile stretched wider, her glowing red eyes turning toward me as she pulled up the 4th dossier—displaying complete interior maps, patrol schedules, and mana charts for all 5 S-Rank Guilds in Celestine and all 5 Sword Saints.
"And 4th—the guilds of Sylvaris and the 5 Sword Saints!" Mariabell laughed sweetly, looking straight at me.
"Actually, we all owe my little brother Lucifer a big round of applause! Because Luci did such an amazing job building up Invictus in Sylvaris, I used his own trade routes to slip my personal spies straight into all 5 top guilds—including Requiem! Half the men working in their command rooms right now belong to me."
She raised 1 finger to her red lips and slowly licked the tip of her index finger, her eyes glinting with dark amusement.
"They are 100% under my control," Mariabell whispered, sending a shiver down the spine of every noble who realized she meant her `[CARNAGE]` mind-slavery.
"My spies have mapped every weakness of their S-Rank guilds and their 5 Sword Saints since before the Grotesque War even started—and right now, the Elves are playing 100% passive defense! They have no idea we're coming! And 5th—Lucifer's scary bedtime story about the Specter's weapons!"
She tapped the final screen, projecting a complete radio-frequency scan of the entire continent of Celestine.
"We have eyes and ears in every city in Celestine," Mariabell declared, her voice ringing with absolute certainty.
"Satellites cannot operate without radio waves! For the past year, our receivers have confirmed 0 military radio waves in Celestine's skies—nothing except cheap civilian television broadcasts! There are 0 war satellites, 0 drone factories, and 0 anti-magic bullet lines in Sylvaris! Master Naelor's seeds are just a fluke created by 1 lone scholar in a basement—not a military arsenal! There will NEVER be another 2013 incident again, because this time, we checked every inch of the continent first!"
PING! PING! PING! PING!
`[TIME REMAINING: 05:10 — WAR: 78 | PEACE: 42]`
Wait—why did 18 Peace votes just flip to War in 2 seconds?!
Those southern Dukes who voted for me earlier didn't even hesitate—they clicked War like they were waiting for her signal!
As the crowd murmured in awe, Mariabell strolled right past the front of my desk at Seat XIII.
Pretending to adjust my collar with a sisterly smile for the crowd, she leaned her lips an inch from my ear and whispered so only I could hear:
"You're still far too young to be a match for us, little brother," Mariabell breathed against my ear, her voice dripping with victory.
"Did you really think your little speech flipped 71 votes earlier? Half the dukes who clicked Peace for you were already mine—I told them to give you a fake lead just so you'd burn all your trump cards early! While you were playing house with your little girl in Sylvaris, I already bought this entire hall with love, seduction, gold, blackmail, fear, blood-oaths, and land titles. Go back to chasing skirts, Luci—this conference was mine before you even woke up this morning."
My blood ran ice-cold as she stepped back, winking at me.
She rigged the scoreboard.
The 71 votes for Peace were a complete setup just to bait me into thinking I was winning!
HADES—give me a counter-argument right now!
`[HADES: Boss... I'm trying, I swear I'm trying, but my screen is blank! She didn't just argue—she literally solved every logistics, food, troop, and weapon problem months ago! I have 0 counter-points left!]`
"That still doesn't guarantee victory, Mariabell!" I shouted, standing up and slamming my hands on the table as the clock ticked under 4 minutes.
"Even if you bought the supply lines, forcing a war—"
"Oh, I'm not done yet, brother," Mariabell cut me off, her playful tone vanishing in an instant.
`[TIME REMAINING: 03:00 — WAR: 82 | PEACE: 38]`
She reached into her dress, pulled out an old, blood-stained memory crystal marked with the royal seal of 2005, and tossed it into the air.
Even up on the Obsidian Throne, Demon Lord Malphas narrowed his red eyes as the crystal lit up the entire dome with a massive, crystal-clear recording from 13 years ago—back when Mariabell and I were only 7 and 8 years old, long before the 2013 war.
"Since my brother loves talking about history and morality, let's look at a real memory from 2005," Mariabell's voice echoed across the darkened hall as the recording began to play.
On the giant projection above us stood the border square of Pandemonium in `2005`.
In the video, a squad of Elven spies was bound in iron chains in front of a towering black Guillotine and a wooden gallows—alongside a group of terrified refugee children from the border villages.
"Look closely, my lords," Mariabell narrated softly, walking beneath the giant screen.
"In 2005, before any war started, we took in starving human and half-elf refugee children near the border and fed them with our own ration soup. And how did the Elves—the race known to the world as the 'Wise and Noble Ones'—repay us? Those Elven spies manipulated the very children we fed, turning them into child-spies to poison our wells and murder our brethren before the war!"
On the screen, a dead Demon soldier lay on a stretcher, his throat slit open, while a 7-year-old Mariabell in a little red dress stood holding her father's cape.
"That dead soldier on the stretcher was Captain Varek of the 4th Border Guard," Mariabell said, her voice dropping into a low, emotional tremor that gripped every heart in the room.
"Varek had a wife and 2 babies waiting for him in the capital. He fought for his country, shared his own rations with those refugee kids—and he never came home, because 2 little girls helped the Elven spies escape and stabbed Varek through the neck when he tried to protect the other children!"
In the `2005` recording, Demon Lord Malphas stood on the execution platform above the captured Elven spies and the 2 girls who had fought back—a 6-year-old Elven girl with bright green hair and wide green eyes, and an 8-year-old Human girl with messy black hair who was shielding the little elf behind her back like a real older sister, even though they didn't share a drop of blood.
On the video, one of the Demon Generals stepped up to Malphas, hesitating as he pointed at the other rescued village children crying in the corner.
"Your Majesty," the general in the recording asked, "we have beheaded the adult Elven spies, and we spared the other refugee children who did nothing wrong... But what about these 2? They are only 6 and 8 years old. Why would children take up blades against our soldiers?"
Down on the platform, the 6-year-old green-haired Elven girl sobbed violently, pointing a tiny, shaking finger at the headless body of one of the adult Elven spies on the stones.
"M-Mama!" the 6-year-old elf girl screamed in the recording, tears pouring down her face. "She wasn't a spy—she was my Mama! Where's my Mama?! You killed my Mama right in front of me!"
"Leave her alone!" the 8-year-old black-haired human girl cried out, wrapping her skinny arms around the little elf girl and glaring up at Malphas with tears streaming down her dirty cheeks.
"Your soldier tried to take her Mama's body away! That's why we fought back! Please, don't touch my little sister—punish me instead!"
In the recording, Malphas looked down at the 2 crying children without a single flicker of mercy in his glowing red eyes.
"Our Sacred Covenant is absolute," Malphas's voice boomed across the `2005` square.
"Demons are the supreme race of this land, and our law does not bend for tears. You spilled the blood of a Demon soldier who fed you. Put the Elven girl on the Guillotine first."
"NO! NO, LET ME GO! BIG SISTER, HELP ME!"
In the video, 2 armored guards ripped the 6-year-old green-haired elf girl out of the human girl's arms, dragging her kicking and screaming onto the wooden block of the Guillotine.
"DON'T TOUCH HER! STOP!" the 8-year-old human girl shrieked, lunging at Malphas with her bare hands to save her little sister—only for a guard's heavy boot to slam her flat onto her stomach on the stones, holding her head up by her black hair so she was forced to watch!
SHING—THUD!
On the giant overhead screen, the heavy iron blade of the Guillotine dropped.
In 1 horrifying second, the 6-year-old Elven girl's head was chopped clean off—and a geyser of hot crimson blood sprayed straight across the stone platform, splashing across the camera lens and soaking half of 7-year-old Mariabell's face and red dress!
"A-AAAAHHHHH! NO! NOOO!"
In the recording, the 8-year-old human girl lost her mind completely—sobbing, choking on her own spit, and rambling messily as the guards dragged her kicking legs toward the hanging rope.
"S-She... she was only 6! S-She just wanted her M-Mama—she couldn't even hold a knife right!" the 8-year-old girl stuttered through her broken screams as the rough rope was looped around her tiny neck.
"Justice in Pandemonium is equal for all races and all ages," Malphas said coldly from the throne above the gallows.
"You chose to kill 1 of your own protectors to serve your Elven manipulators. That is why you deserve death."
"P-Protectors?! You're lying—y-you're all lying!" the little human girl screamed, her voice cracking and raw as blood and tears dripped off her chin while the executioner tightened the noose.
"You only kept our village alive to use us as f-farms! You killed our families, you burned our homes—you're Demons! You're all heartless monsters who rule over us just because we're weak and can't fight back!"
With the rope biting into her neck, the 8-year-old girl looked straight up at the grey sky—and then locked her burning, tear-filled eyes straight onto Demon Lord Malphas.
"Mark my words, Demon Lord!" the little girl shrieked with her final breath.
"1 day... 1 day, 1 of us won't cower behind walls anymore! 1 of us will stand up against your cruelty! 1 of us will bring justice down on all of you! If anyone up there is hearing me—please, open your eyes and show these Demons their own cruelty back!"
In the video, Malphas scoffed down at her from his platform.
"Foolish child," Malphas said flatly.
"There will never be a human born in this world capable of making Demons feel fear."
"THERE WILL BE!" the 8-year-old girl screamed at the top of her lungs as the executioner gripped the lever.
"Even if I lose my life today, I will watch from the skies—I will watch the day you Demons finally feel terror for the 1st time in your lives! And it won't come from the gods or the Elves—it will be by US HUMANS!"
CLACK—SNAP!
The trapdoor dropped.
The little girl's body jerked at the end of the rope, her small hand still raised in defiance against Malphas as blood dripped down the lens of the recording crystal—and right behind her swinging boots stood 7-year-old Mariabell, half her face and dress drenched in crimson blood, her red eyes glittering like stars, smiling from ear to ear with all her white teeth showing as the vision froze overhead!
In the real amphitheater, the silence was so heavy you could hear 120 hearts pounding at once.
Standing directly under the frozen image of her blood-soaked 7-year-old self, Mariabell raised her bleeding hand to her chest, her red eyes shimmering with real, burning tears of rage and passion as she poured her whole soul out to the room.
"Look at that screen, my brothers! Look at it, my lords!" Mariabell cried out, her voice trembling with raw emotion that hit every Demon in the chest like a war hammer.
"In 2005, Father executed a 6-year-old child without blinking because 1 single Demon soldier—Captain Varek—lost his life! Because under our law, 1 drop of Demon blood was worth more than the entire world!"
She swept her arm across the room, pointing at Christiana trembling in her chair and then up at the ceiling.
"Then tell me—WHERE IS PANDEMONIUM'S JUSTICE NOW?!" Mariabell roared, tears of blood spilling down her cheeks while she smiled through her teeth.
"Where is the justice for the 300 MILLION Demon brothers and sisters butchered like cattle by the Specter?! Where is the justice for my little sister Christiana—who fought for this empire during the Eclipse Night and was tortured across the black galaxy by Celestara until she can't even look at the moon without screaming in terror?!"
Across the tiers, battle-hardened Dukes and Generals were clenching their jaws so hard their teeth bled, tears of rage burning in their red eyes.
"If 1 dead soldier in 2005 demanded an execution," Mariabell shouted, turning around and pointing her bloody finger straight up at Demon Lord Malphas on the Obsidian Throne,
"then 300 million dead Demons demand the blood of Celestine first—and then the entire world! Yet look at you, Father! That little human girl cursed us from the rope, and after 2013, you actually learned to FEAR! That is why you are sitting up there holding a coward's vote instead of marching our armies!"
BOOOOOOM!
Malphas vanished from the throne and appeared 1 foot in front of Mariabell in 0.01 seconds.
RIP—CRACK!
With 1 bare hand, Malphas grabbed Mariabell's right arm at the shoulder, ripped her entire right arm clean out of its socket, and ignited it with black hellfire—burning her severed arm to ash right in his palm as blood fountain-sprayed across her face and dress!
"Watch your mouth, Mariabell," Malphas snarled, his glowing red eyes inches from hers.
"I am the Demon Lord. Question my courage 1 more time and I will burn the rest of you."
Mariabell didn't even flinch as hot blood soaked half her face—matching the exact image of her 7-year-old self on the screen above them.
With a wide, glittering, toothy smile, she looked straight into our father's eyes as red flesh and bone violently sprouted from her shoulder, regrowing her right arm from scratch in 3 seconds flat.
"Forgive me, Papa~" Mariabell whispered, her voice fearless and ringing through the stunned hall.
"I fear you raised me to never fear anyone in this world... and that includes you."
Malphas stared into her manic red eyes, and for a single heartbeat, he didn't strike her again—he only glared back as she stood tall in a puddle of her own blood.
"You call it fear, girl," Malphas rumbled quietly, so low only the front table heard him.
"I have walked this world thousands of years longer than you have been alive... and I have seen the graveyard that blind pride builds."
Mariabell spun back toward the 120 seats, flexing her freshly regrown, blood-slicked right hand high in the air.
"We will take Celestine!" Mariabell yelled to the entire hall, her voice setting every noble's blood on fire.
"And after we turn Celestine into our farm, we will take the entire world and bring justice to the 300 million brothers we lost! Because we are DEMONS—NOT COWARDS!"
Up on the golden diplomatic balcony, Empress Rose Valentine calmly stood up from her chair, resting her white-gloved hands on the railing as her voice cut smoothly through the roar.
"Oh? Taking the entire world, Princess Mariabell?" Rose asked, tilting her golden head with a cool, composed smile.
"Does that grand speech include the Asura Empire?"
Mariabell snapped her head up toward the balcony, grinning with all her blood-stained teeth.
"Enjoy your Non-Aggression Pact while it lasts, Empress!" Mariabell called back shamelessly.
"Because once I devour Celestine and awaken as a true Demon Lord, Part 2 will be coming for Asura very soon—and nothing on earth will stop me!"
Rose let out a soft, musical giggle, not looking threatened in the slightest.
"My my, isn't that the exact same pride all of you had right before you rushed into Asura in 2013—right before you ended up on your knees on the ground?" Rose said pleasantly.
"I am not here to argue over who would win, Princess. Allow me to simply share a small historical tale with your court: decade ago, during the Valerion Sky War, the Dragonic Kingdom believed they were invincible in the air. Faced with the prospect of being outclassed in the skies... the Asura Empire responded by engineering the greatest fighter jet in history."
Every royal sibling at the table stiffened.
"Hah! Taking out a few weak lizards in Valerion is supposed to scare us, Empress?!" Mariabell scoffed, clenching her bloody fist as she looked down on Rose.
"Your empire is so pathetic and weak that the whole lot of you had to hide behind 1 single man just to survive against us!"
`[HADES: Uh, boss... she shouldn't brush that story off. I have the classified files from that Valerion war—1 single prototype Asuran fighter jet took out 5 Elder Dragons in the deep sky in under 4 minutes!]`
Up on the balcony, Rose didn't argue back or lose her temper. She simply offered a polite, chillingly confident smile.
"Think whatever helps you sleep at night, Princess," Rose replied smoothly, sitting back down with her tea.
"If Pandemonium ever dares to test that theory for 'Part 2,' Asura will be more than happy to oblige you."
"Enough about Asura," Malphas commanded from the dais, stepping back to his throne as the hourglass flashed red for the final 60 seconds.
"Finish your last minute, Mariabell."
`[TIME REMAINING: 01:00 — WAR: 85 | PEACE: 35]`
Mariabell took a deep breath, stood dead center under the hourglass, and threw both of her arms wide open—exposing her chest and her blood-stained hands to the entire amphitheater.
Whoooosh.
`[HADES: WAIT A SECOND—BOSS! She just completely turned off 100% of her C.A.R.N.A.G.E. mind-control magic! The air is totally clean—every single person in this room can vote with their own free will right now!]`
She turned off her mind-magic?! Why would she let them vote freely at the last second?!
Because she already knows she owns their hearts!
"I don't need magic to force your hands, my lords!" Mariabell cried out, her charisma blazing so brightly that the entire 120-seat chamber was hanging on her every breath.
"We are not waiting 40 years! We are not even waiting a month! Our fleets and armies are already loaded at the southern border ports right now! In 1 week—7 days from today—Pandemonium marches across the sea to burn Celestine to the ground!"
She raised 1 single blood-red index finger straight toward the ceiling, her eyes glittering like rubies.
"With 1 vote," Mariabell smiled, "WE bring our Demonic pride back! Vote with your own hearts, my lords!"
PING-PING-PING-PING-PING-PING-PING!
A tidal wave of blood-red lights exploded across every tier of the amphitheater at once—even the nobles who hadn't been bribed slamming the WAR button with their fists in the air, roaring at the top of their lungs!
"WE ARE DEMONS, NOT COWARDS!"
"FOR PANDEMONIUM! FOR VAREK! WAR! WAR! WAR!"
DING—!
The last grain of red sand fell through the hourglass.
`[TIME REMAINING: 00:00 — VOTING CLOSED]`
`[FINAL OFFICIAL RESULT — WAR: 112 | PEACE: 8]`
112 to 8.
...112 to 8.
I sat frozen in Seat XIII, the deafening roar of 100 cheering warlords ringing in my ears as I slowly raised 1 hand to cover my eyes, clenching my teeth so hard my jaw ached.
As the Secretary of the Parliament, I had no choice—protocol required my seat to read the final tally into the royal record.
"By an official vote of 112 to 8," I said, my voice cold and tight over the microphone, "the motion passes. The Empire of Pandemonium will mobilize all legions... and invade the Continent of Celestine in 1 week."
Up on the Obsidian Throne, Demon Lord Malphas didn't cheer, smile, or say a single word. He simply stared down at the screaming hall in heavy, unreadable silence, while up in the guest box Elder Master Naelor Varethiel sat slumped in his chair, his face pale as a corpse.
That bitch played me.
She played me from the very 1st second.
She bought the majority of the nobles before sunrise, used fake Peace votes to bait me into wasting my cards, solved every supply problem months in advance, and then used that 2005 execution video to weaponize their pride against every drop of common sense!
I underestimated my sister—and I swear to God, I will never make that mistake again.
In 7 days, 500,000 Demon fanatics plus Satan, Liliath, Belial, and Mariabell are landing in Celestine.
I have to get back to Sylvaris immediately. I need to warn Celia and make sure Invictus and our syndicate don't get caught in the crossfire—because unlike Asura in 2013, Celestine doesn't have a hero like the Specter to save it this time!
As the session adjourned and the cheering nobles began filing toward the grand doors, the footsteps of a pair of heels clicked across the stone behind my chair.
Before I could stand up, Mariabell leaned down over the back of my seat, resting her hands on my shoulders as she pressed her red lips right next to my ear.
"You fought so hard today, Luci~" Mariabell whispered softly, the scent of fresh blood and sweet perfume wrapping around my neck.
"Listen to your big sister closely: I am going to do everything it takes to get my revenge for Christie and 2013. I will use anyone, lie, cheat, massacre, and betray anyone standing in my way—because like you said, little brother, in war, anything goes."
Her hand slid slowly down from my shoulder to the front of my chest, her voice dropping into a shameless, seductive purr right against my skin.
"Forget that little foreign girl you're chasing in Sylvaris, Luci," Mariabell murmured, her red eyes half-lidded as she brushed her cheek against mine.
"Ditch her, come join my side tonight, and I'll give you everything a man could ever dream of—my crown, my armies, and me, whenever and however you want me, all night long~"
I sat completely still, staring straight ahead in icy silence without giving her a single word.
Mariabell giggled softly, blew a warm puff of air straight into my ear, and patted my cheek.
"Take your time to think about it, little brother~" she purred.
"You have 7 days."
With a twirl of her blood-stained dress, Mariabell walked back across the pit, took Christiana's hand gently in hers, and strolled out of the amphitheater flanked by Satan, Liliath, and a grinning Belial.
I slowly stood up from the black stone table, my red eyes locking onto her back as the doors closed behind her.
Keep celebrating while you can, Mariabell.
7 days.
This isn't over—not even close.