"I know this will take you time to process," Aisha said gently. Her words floated across the dim candlelit hall like dust in sunlight.
Silence lingered.
Everyone remained seated, heads heavy with the weight of their new identities.
Aiden stared at the table, his fingers lightly tapping the polished obsidian surface. No one spoke. Even Kleano, normally a chatterbox, remained still, a strange stillness overtaking his usually animated expression.
"I understand," Aisha continued, "but for now, I must ask you all to follow me."
Reluctantly, the group rose to their feet and trailed after her as she glided through the corridor—her steps silent but her presence deafening.
The long hallway stretched before them, gilded with inlaid runes and illuminated by torches of cold blue flame. The silence between the group wasn't just from shock. It was reverence, fear, awe—all tangled together.
"So… where exactly are we going?" Byron finally asked, his voice echoing slightly in the grand corridor.
"You will be meeting the subjects of the Twilight Territory," Aisha replied.
The words hit them like a wave.
"Subjects?" Ashiq repeated slowly. "As in… people who serve us?"
"Yes," Aisha said plainly. "They've awaited your return for generations. Today marks the end of their vigil."
No one dared respond. Soon, they came to a halt before a massive double door, carved with ancient runes glowing faintly with infernal red light. The doors towered above them, easily three stories high, wrapped in silver thorns and etched with the sigils of the Nine Dukes.
The group stood frozen, staring up at it.
"You do not need to speak," Aisha said softly. "I will announce your return. You need only appear."
She turned to face them. "But before that… you must look the part."
She examined their mismatched modern clothes—hoodies, jeans, school jackets, torn uniforms—and clicked her fingers.
Fwoosh.
A ripple of light burst from beneath her feet and engulfed the group.
When the light faded, they stood transformed. Each wore regal attire tailored to their new titles—robes of midnight silk, armor etched with demonic runes, elegant cloaks that shimmered like the night sky. Crowns and circlets adorned their heads. They no longer looked like students.
They looked like rulers.
Aiden glanced down at his gloves—now black leather trimmed with silver—and exhaled slowly. The weight of the past, the power in his veins—it all felt so real now.
"Stand in these circles," Aisha instructed, pointing to glowing glyphs etched into the floor. "When I call your name, the magic will teleport you onto the stage."
The circles pulsed with a low hum. Everyone stepped into position.
Aisha turned and, with a nod, walked toward the doors. The only sound that followed her was the echo of her heels.
The moment the doors creaked open, a roaring sound surged in from outside.
They peeked through the opening and saw it: a massive coliseum-like arena lit by black crystal torches and filled with tens of thousands of demonic beings—vampires, succubi, dark elves, flame spirits, undead legions, and more. They stood in anticipation, murmuring, waiting.
Then, Aisha stepped onto the grand obsidian balcony that overlooked the crowd.
"I, Aisha Drakonia, Head Maid and First Vassal, welcome you—loyal subjects of the Twilight Territory."
A thunderous silence fell over the arena as thousands of heads turned upward.
"The Dukes of the Abyss have returned! And with them, the age of Twilight shall rise again!"
A surge of cheers erupted from every corner.
"I now present… the Demon Duke of the East—The Corps King, Leon Hydra!"
Cornê vanished in a flash of crimson light and reappeared atop the platform. Skeletal warriors raised their axes and roared. Zombies with glowing green eyes thumped their chests. The dead had waited centuries for their master.
"I present the Demon Duke of the South—The Blood Blade, Sebastián Tempest!"
Kleano was transported next. A roar erupted from a section of red-eyed warriors with bronze skin and blades forged from bone. Vampiric nobles and dhampir hunters bowed as he appeared.
"I present the Demon Duke of the West—The Dark Blade, Maximilian Klementine!"
Mans stepped forward into a storm of black rose petals. Dark elves with silver hair and shadow-painted faces cheered, chanting his name in their ancient tongue.
"I present the Demon Duke of the North—The Succubus King, Lysander Aphrodite!"
Lerenso appeared amidst a wave of shrieks and howls. Beautiful and androgynous demons danced in celebration, blowing kisses and brandishing heart-shaped weapons.
"I now introduce the Demon King's Demonic Generals!"
"The King of Vampires, Duke of the Night—Vlad Constantine!"
Ashiq stood tall as a swarm of blood-red bats circled above him. Thousands of vampires knelt in unison.
"The Vengeful Spirit, Duke of Flames—Reages Flare!"
Adriaan emerged into a pillar of fire. Ghostly warriors and flame avatars howled in unison, their armor alight.
"The King of Demonic Elves, Duke of Shadow—Xoraxys Stardumn!"
Ishipho took his place amid a flurry of black leaves. Shadowy elves chanted, casting illusions in celebration.
"With all honor and reverence, I present the Demon King's Right Hand, Grand Duke and King of All Races—Zackary Grey Vermillion!"
As Aiden appeared, the entire arena seemed to shift. A tide of voices shouted his name—elves, demons, spirits, even lesser dragons. They bowed in unison as he stood still, his cloak fluttering.
Aisha turned and looked directly at him, her eyes glinting with quiet meaning—as if she were holding back truths not yet ready to be spoken.
"And last…" her voice rose like a blade unsheathed.
"All rise. Present your hearts and raise your blades for the ruler of the Twilight Throne. The Avatar of Sin. The Lord of Shadows. The Demon King—Luciferus!"
As Byron stepped onto the platform, an ocean of beings fell to their knees.
Silence.
Then a single word echoed from the crowd:
"Luciferus!"
They chanted. Over and over. The name thundered across the skies.
Hours later, the group sat around a wide blackstone table, rubbing their temples and groaning in exhaustion.
"Well, that was… intense," Aiden muttered.
"My legs are still shaking," Adriaan admitted, slumping in his chair.
"I'm so exhausted," Ashiq added. The others groaned in agreement.
"I apologize for the rush," Aisha said as she entered the hall once more. "But now is the time to prepare. You all have a world to rebuild."
Everyone turned toward her.
"Before sealing yourselves away, each of you wrote detailed guides—memoirs, manuals, and messages to your future selves. They were locked away for this very moment."
She snapped her fingers. Giant tomes floated into the room and landed on the table—each one bearing the crest of its owner.
"You must read them. Everything—your magic, your people, your history—is written within."
They stared at the books.
"And from this moment on, all of you except the Demon King must return to your respective domains."
"What?!" Cornê's voice shot up. "You're kicking us out already?"
"This is the Demon King's Castle," Aisha explained calmly. "Each of you has your own territory to rule—and subordinates who await your return."
"But… what if we mess up?" Kleano asked, fidgeting with the clasp on his new robe. "We don't remember anything."
"You need not worry," she said. "I have summoned your most trusted lieutenants. They know of your memory loss and will assist you in relearning everything—from spellwork to court etiquette."
She glanced at Aiden. "Your homes await, your people wait, and so too does your destiny."
Later that evening, the group stood in front of the castle's moonlit courtyard.
Nine luxurious carriages, each uniquely styled to represent their owner's domain, awaited them—black flame wagons, spectral horse-drawn carriages, floating platforms of crystal.
"Well… see you guys around," Byron said, offering a tired smirk.
"Yeah," Mans muttered. "Hope I don't set my castle on fire."
They exchanged glances—brothers not by blood, but by fate.
One by one, they climbed into their carriages, vanishing into the night.