"Lucien Vale," the Sun Goddess's voice booms. "You have been summoned for judgment before the Tribunal of Eternal Balance."
"Okay… sounds important." Lucien nods, smirking as he strokes his chin like he's about to charm the crown off a queen. "Is this the part where I get my halo and wings, or—"
The Moon Goddess lifts her hand to her mouth to hide a chuckle while the Creator hides his snicker behind a pretend sip of his cup.
"You upset the balance of your world, heathen." The Sun Goddess snaps. "Your actions caused untold suffering. Your unchecked greed, your corruption, your manipulations of power and influence. Not to mention all the sexua—"
"Oh, that?" Lucien interrupts, raising a finger in defense. "Is this about… that was," He winces, formulating an excuse in real time. "That was actually the first step in my grand plan to rehabilitate the world. To save it! And I was well on my way until some stupid truck driver—"
"The Celestial Assassin." The Moon Goddess corrects him.
"Celery… Ass… Man?" Lucien asks, head tilted in confusion.
"Celestial Assassin!" the Moon Goddess repeats, far too loud.
"It wasn't a truck," the Creator mutters. "You were taken by our finest assassin. A shape-shifting, interdimensional, divine-powered entity of pure retribution."
Lucien gives a low, impressed whistle. "That actually explains a lot. I was starting to think delivery trucks just had a fetish for hitting overachievers."
"You left us with little choice, Lucien Vale." The Sun Goddess says. "Your world was suffering. The balance was crumbling. Your very existence accelerated inequality, conflicts, and societal breakdown—"
"Can't change the world without tearing out a few foundations, darling." Lucien retorts, smiling innocently at the deities before him.
"And the orgies?" the Moon Goddess asks, raising an intrigued eyebrow. "The amount of lust you alone generated was almost supernatural."
"Well, now we're just getting into unnecessary details." Lucien responds. "Although I'd be happy to discuss the intricacies of multi-partner fornication with the both of you if we—"
"Enough." The Creator cuts in, rubbing at his nose with feigned annoyance as he bites down a laugh. "Your punishment has been decided."
"You'll be reincarnated," says the Moon Goddess. "A new world. A new life."
"As a sickly, destitute eunuch." The Sun Goddess adds, a smug grin dripping with satisfaction. "Poor, powerless, and missing your manhood. You will live like those you have crushed in your path of profits and perversion."
Lucien frowns while his eyes soften and widen like a lovesick puppy. "So, first of all… ouch. That hurt my feelings. And secondly, what you are suggesting is what we in the industry would call: a MASSIVE WASTE OF TALENT."
"Excuse me?" The Sun Goddess says, taken aback.
"Do I look like a man built for peasantry?" Lucien asks, twirling and striking a pose.
"You look like you're carved from marble and bathed in the blood of virgins," the Moon Goddess says, before biting her lip.
"Thank you." Lucien smiles with a wink. "And that's exactly my point. What if, instead of letting my brilliant mind and blessed body rot in squalor, you let me do something good? Meaningful? A redemption arc, if you—"
"There's no redemption for the likes of you," the Sun Goddess snaps.
"Every soul deserves a second chance," the Creator says, stroking his beard thoughtfully.
The Moon Goddess nods, smiling softly at Lucien. "Perhaps. But what could he possibly do for the people of Eltheria?"
"Well, I'm glad you asked." Lucien taps his fingertips rhythmically, like he's about to close on another once-in-a-lifetime deal. "This world you're sending me to. Eltheria. What's it like, exactly?"
The three deities glance at each other, some silent, ancient negotiation passing between them in the space of a single breath.
"No war," the Creator says. "No corruption. No greed. Prosperity abounds."
Lucien raises a brow. "So… it's a paradise?"
"No," the Moon Goddess begins. "Centuries ago, the world was ravaged by a powerful Demon King. Wars tore the lands apart. Men died in droves. Magic and curses ravaged kingdoms for an age."
"After the Demon King's fall," the Sun Goddess continues, "a new order emerged. A matriarchal one. Seven kingdoms, each ruled by powerful women, united in peace and prosperity."
Lucien raises both brows. "So… it's a paradise ruled by women?"
"Far from it," the Moon Goddess admits. "With no great threat, no reason to push them forward, there is no progress. No ambition or growth. The celestial balance has been broken."
"Now they drown in wasted potential," the Sun Goddess mutters. "If nothing changes soon, we'll have to take drastic measures to nudge them along. A global catastrophe, minor apocalypse, perhaps… something."
Lucien's eyes light up like a landlord at a foreclosure sale. "Say no more." He grins from ear to ear. "I'll do it."
The gods look at him, confused.
"Do what, exactly?" the Creator asks.
"I'll be the threat." Lucien explains. "Make me the new Demon King. Give the world something to fear, to unite against. I've ruined empires, manipulated markets, crushed governments with little more than a press release. I know how to stir the pot without—"
"Absolutely not." The Sun Goddess rasps, folding her arms. "You'll just end up corrupting another world."
"Think about it." Lucien insists. "I'm uniquely qualified for this position."
"He is… uniquely qualified," the Creator mutters, eyeing Lucien more closely. "You'd pose an interesting challenge. And challenges create motion."
"If nothing else, it would be entertaining to watch." The Moon Goddess adds, with a smirk.
The Sun Goddess scowls, tossing her hands in the air. "This is madness. You risk countless souls."
"It's a return to balance," the Creator says. "Let the storm come, if it teaches the people to adapt. If it can open their eyes to their complacence."
They turn away and whisper amongst themselves, voices dropping too low for mortal ears, while Lucien stands before them, hands folded behind his back, grinning far too smugly, rocking once on his heels like a man waiting on a jury he's already bribed.
"Who knew smooth-talking gods was this easy," he mutters under his breath.
The Sun Goddess turns sharply and glares at him. "Did you just say something?"
"Just admiring your divine glow, Your Grace." Lucien smiles and tilts his head sheepishly. "It's blindingly beautiful. Really pure, fierce. Utterly mesmerizing. Transcendent, really."
Her breath hitches while the Moon Goddess giggles at the obvious flattery.
The Creator clears his throat, rattling the clouds at Lucien's feet. "We've made a decision. You may proceed. But under three conditions."
"Hit me!" Lucien responds, flicking two finger guns at them.
"One, the Demon Lord's power is limited to his domain. The Ashlands."
"A handicap?" Lucien scoffs. "Great start. What else?"
"Two, you may not directly conquer any of the seven kingdoms, or harm their royalty."
Lucien cocks an eyebrow. "Define 'conquer.' Are we talking politically? Economically? Sexual—"
The Sun Goddess gives him a warning glare, cutting him off.
"No royal body count. Duly noted."
"Three: your actions must ultimately benefit the world's balance. Measurable improvements must be witnessed as a result of your presence."
Lucien gives a firm salute. "Scout's honor."
"You were never in the scouts." The Sun Goddess scowls.
"True." Lucien smirks. "But it sounds better than Demon Lord's honor. Nevermind… I'll get marketing to work on something."
"Demon Lords don't have marketing teams," the Moon Goddess chuckles.
"Not yet." Lucien smirks. "So, are we getting this show on the road or what?"
"One last thing," the Creator sighs. "To ensure you're following the rules, we'll be assigning you a guardian angel."
Right on cue, a pillar of light descends from the sky, splitting the clouds wide enough that Lucien has to shield his eyes against the glare, and out floats a vision of divine innocence and beauty. An angel radiating divine beauty, long hair made of golden light, eyes like liquid sapphire, and a figure so distractingly perfect it probably violates multiple celestial workplace guidelines.
She touches down beside Lucien with a graceful flutter of wings, her body covered in a sheer, shimmering gown as thin as a whisper.
"I am Serenith," she says, bowing slightly. "First Seat of the Ninth Choir. I will observe and report on your journey, and assist where I can."
Lucien takes one look at her, bows, then shoots her the kind of smirk that could melt hearts, contracts, and underwear.
"My dear Serenith." He croons. "You just became my favorite choir."
She blinks rapidly, cheeks flushing. "Oh, um… I… thank you."
"I aim to please." He grins, then reaches forward, eyes smoldering, trying to brush a strand of hair from her cheek.
Bwoooom~
A blast of holy energy launches him backward like a ridiculously good-looking ragdoll, slamming him into a cloud wall before he slumps to the ground in a smoking heap while the gods all howl with laughter.
"Holy magic is deadly to demon lords," the Sun Goddess says, smirking.
"Noted." Lucien groans, sitting up and coughing out a puff of smoke.
"Lucien Vale," the Creator bellows, stepping forward and looming over him like a bearded mountain. "This is your only chance at redemption. If you attempt to deceive us or betray our agreement, your soul will be destroyed. Utterly and completely. Is that clear, my boy?"
"Crystal." Lucien brushes ash from his abs. "No deception, no cheating. Just creativenegotiations."