I studied my so-called brother with a calm, detached interest. I memorized his posture, the way he held himself with a childish sort of pride, and the soft features of his face.
The look of pure scorn and annoyance he directed at me was strangely comforting, like a familiar, warm cup of tea, even if it was brewed from ordinary, non-magical herbs.
"It is good to see you, brother," I said, letting a small, polite smile form on my lips. "Could you tell me what our father wants?"
The smile was enough to completely throw him off.
The boy stumbled over his words, his carefully crafted image of a proud heir shattering for a moment.
It seemed our "father" was quite lenient in raising his successor. In my old clan, a young one who couldn't maintain their composure would be forced to walk on hot coals to learn patience and self-control.
Perhaps things were different here because of their long lifespans. After all, the body's memories told me that a sixty-year-old demon was still considered a "teenager" by their elders.
"You'll find out when we get there," he snapped, recovering his footing. He glanced at the dead patch of grass around me and tried to land a blow.
"Were you crying just now? Are you sad that you were born, since it caused mother to die?"
He was trying to hurt me. And to my annoyance, he succeeded. I despise any reminder of my mother's death.
"No," I replied smoothly, my smile never wavering. "These are tears of joy, for having such a wonderful brother."
I reached out and gave his shoulder a 'gentle' pat.
The hidden force in the gesture nearly sent him sprawling to the ground. He spun around, his face twisted in a snarl, and I could feel a wave of pure anger roll off him.
"You, !"
"Let's go," I interrupted, turning and walking towards the grand mansion. "Father is waiting."
As I walked, I could hear his angry huffing behind me. My mind, however, was already racing elsewhere.
The possibility that my mother's soul had not been destroyed, but had somehow been reborn here as this boy's sister, was a spark of hope in the vast emptiness of my existence.
I began to sift through the memories I had absorbed, trying to make sense of this strange society of "wrong" demons.
In my world, I had seen demons. I had even helped bring them into the world, unleashing them upon the lands of the righteous sects.
The Nine Mystic Swords Sect itself, the very sect that girl belonged to, was originally created to guard a sealed portal to the underworld.
On my mother's orders, I destroyed them and opened that gate, letting an army of demons pour through.
Back then, the Black Heavens alliance didn't exist, and my mother's clan needed a distraction, something to keep the major sects busy while we gathered our strength.
The demons I knew, the subjects of King Yama, were ugly, bloodthirsty creatures.
They craved the suffering of mortals and grew stronger by devouring souls. But here… these demons were different.
In my world, only the most powerful devils, beings whose strength rivaled Immortal Emperors, could take on a perfect human form.
Here, almost every demon looked human. And what was even stranger was their… humanity.
There were "good" demons here. Good. Demons. The very words together were a joke in my old world, something to be laughed at. But here, it was a fact.
There were common demons who lived like ordinary people. They had families, worked the land, and bowed to their masters for centuries.
It was all so bizarre, especially when their own history claimed their ancestor, Satan Lucifer, created them for war against God.
I needed to learn more about this world before I could make any real plans to serve my mother.
But first, I had to be sure. Was this boy's sister truly my mother? And if she was, did she remember who she was?
"Don't get ahead of yourself," a voice snarled.
My brother, Euclis, rushed past me, clearly annoyed that I was walking in front of him. It reminded me a little of my clan brothers. They, too, had resented me for how much attention our mother gave me.
Pathetic weaklings, none of them strong enough to accept the fate of being a weapon in her hands. Still, they had been useful in their own way, sacrificing their lives for the cause.
Perhaps this Euclis could also be useful. I could already see the seeds of selfish pride growing within him, and I knew how to nurture such things.
As we approached the entrance to the mansion, two maids who were sweeping the path bowed low.
My brother, having regained his princely composure, walked past them without a single glance. My eyes flickered over the maids.
They were beautiful, but their energy was far weaker than that of the blond-haired boy in front of me.
A life decided at birth.
A faint smile touched my lips. I was beginning to understand this society. It was like a pack of beasts.
Your power, your status, your entire future was determined by your bloodline.
Born a Lucifer?
You were destined to rule.
Born a commoner?
You were destined to be nothing.
An interesting thought occurred to me. If I could absorb the blood essence of a direct descendant of Lucifer, could I finally break through the final limit of my cultivation, the stage of Divine Intent? With more power, I could grant my mother's every wish.
Lost in thought, I followed my brother through several long corridors and up a grand staircase.
We arrived before a pair of massive doors, the entrance to our father's study. A man standing guard saw us, peeked inside, and then opened the doors.
"Let them in," a deep voice commanded from within.
I straightened my posture and walked into the room, my face a mask of calm indifference. I noted the tall stacks of paper on the desk and the two servants who stood frozen like statues against the walls.
A man who looked to be in his early thirties, with the silver hair and red eyes that marked the Lucifuge family, was seated behind the desk. He stamped a seal on a document before finally looking up at us.
"Euclis," he said, his voice void of any warmth. "In a few days, you and your brother will go with Grayfia to Lucifade. The 'gathering of the young generation of demons' is being held this year."
"I will not fail to bring honor to our house, Father," Euclis said proudly. "But aren't demons supposed to be seventeen before they attend such gatherings?"
"You are only there to observe, my son. The experience will be good for you."
"Then why does he have to come with me and sister?" Euclis pointed a finger at me, his desire to have his mother, his sister, all to himself plain on his face. He wanted her attention but could offer her no real use. Pathetic.
I met the cold, ruby-red gaze of Rofocale Lucifuge, the Right Hand of Lucifer, Leader of the Six Great Houses, and the master of my new home.
A wave of ice-cold energy washed over me, a feeling so full of negativity it was almost invigorating.
It wasn't just anger; it was a storm of grief, blame, and a deep, aching loss. This ancient demon, a veteran of countless wars, had never gotten over the death of his wife, who had died shortly after Euclis and I were born.
And he blamed me. I, who shared nothing with my parents but the color of my eyes.
Perhaps, I thought, he wasn't entirely wrong. The strange new power within me felt parasitic, draining the life from my surroundings.
My memories of my birth were a blur, but I could not deny the possibility that this "demonic aura" of mine, now raging within me, might have been what killed the woman who gave this body life.