Chapter 2: A New Beginning

  Three days passed. The Battle of Kings resumed. The remaining participants gathered on the stage and were informed they were entering the quarter-finals. The first match would begin shortly.

  The crowd erupted in excitement, their cheers echoing through the vast arena. The participants returned to the waiting area, the tension between them palpable.

  Lucifer stood alone in his usual corner, calm and detached, watching the activity around him without interest.

  Kevin Salazar appeared, moving toward him with quiet determination. They exchanged greetings and wishes of good luck. Their conversation was casual, yet beneath it lingered the unspoken acknowledgment of the battles to come.

  The competition finally began. The crowd’s screaming swelled, filling every shadowed corner of the arena. Lucifer’s name was called for the first match.

  One by one, his opponents fell. He moved with precision and control, striking with lethal efficiency.

  Even as the matches continued, Lucifer received little to no noticeable damage. Each victory left the audience uneasy, a silent whisper of something beyond human skill.

  In the end, Lucifer emerged unscathed. He had made it to the finals.

  Much preparation was required before the finals could begin. Organizers moved tirelessly, constructing a stage strong enough to withstand the full force of Lucifer’s and Kevin’s powers.

  In about a week, the preparations were complete. The arena now stood ready, heavy with anticipation and the faint hum of latent energy.

  The participants left the waiting area. The first name announced was Lucifer.

  He stepped onto the stage with casual ease. His right hand rested in his pocket, while his left hand stroked through hair that fluttered in the wind, as if the air itself bent to him.

  Next came the participant everyone had been waiting for—even Lucifer. His greatest opponent. Kevin “The Prince of Chronos” Salazar.

  The crowd erupted at Kevin’s appearance. Even Lucifer allowed himself a brief grin as he watched Kevin stride onto the stage.

  The moment Kevin’s foot touched the platform, his gaze locked onto Lucifer’s. A matching grin spread across his face. The moment they had both anticipated had finally arrived.

  They moved toward the center of the stage, eyes never leaving each other. Even the crowd’s deafening chants could not pierce their focus.

  The signal to begin sounded.

  As if drawn by some invisible force, they surged toward each other, closing the distance at blinding speed.

  The grins on their faces spoke volumes. This was no ordinary duel. This was an epic confrontation about to unfold.

  They charged at each other, swords raised. The moment they clashed, a thunderous clang echoed across the stadium, reverberating through every shadowed corner.

  Their blades collided again and again, a blur of steel and sparks. The crowd gasped, enthralled by the electrifying speed. It was Lucifer’s first time wielding a sword, yet their strikes seemed perfectly matched.

  Lucifer’s eyes sharpened. He began taking the fight seriously, and almost instantly, momentum shifted in his favor.

  Kevin adapted quickly, activating his magic-infused armor. The shimmering aura absorbed much of Lucifer’s ferocity, allowing him to counter and press on without faltering.

  Back and forth they battled, neither giving the other a chance to land a decisive blow. Time itself seemed to bend around their clashing energy.

  At last, after an exhausting stalemate, both warriors paused. A silent understanding passed between them. Their next strike would end it all.

  Lucifer’s sword ignited, flames licking along the steel until it glowed a deep, fiery red. Kevin mirrored him, and soon both blades burned like molten crimson.

  They charged, full speed, the air around them shimmering from their heat. Kevin took the initiative, leaping into the air for a vertical slash at full power.

  But Lucifer was faster than Kevin—or the audience—had realized. In an instant, he vanished from sight.

  He reappeared behind Kevin in mid-air, slashing downward. His blade cut through Kevin’s armor, slicing all the way to skin.

  Before Kevin could recover, Lucifer unleashed a fireball. The impact sent Kevin crashing into the ground, a plume of dust erupting around him.

  As the dust swirled, Lucifer landed and charged again, intent on finishing the fight. A deafening bang echoed across the arena.

  When the dust cleared, the impossible was revealed: the King himself had stopped Lucifer’s attack.

  The crowd fell into stunned silence. The King’s involvement was unprecedented—especially in the finals of the Battle of Kings.

  With a calm authority, the King declared Lucifer the winner.

  As he began to leave, both Lucifer and Kevin voiced their outrage at the interference. Kevin surged forward, charging at Lucifer. Lucifer met him head-on, their swords poised to clash.

  Before the blades could meet, the King appeared between them. In a blur, he seized both swords and flung them to opposite ends of the stage.

  Raising his hand, the King brought it down in a commanding motion. A violent force slammed Kevin into the ground, pinning him immobile.

  The King turned to Lucifer, attempting the same technique. But it had no effect. Lucifer stood unshaken, the storm of his presence seemingly impervious to the King’s power..

  Lucifer rose, his gaze fixed on the King. This was no longer a tournament fight—he had no reason to hold back.

  He unleashed his full power. His eyes burned crimson, and a dark aura surged around him, writhing like living shadows.

  When his punch connected, the force was overwhelming. The King staggered backward, pushed a considerable distance by the sheer magnitude of Lucifer’s strength.

  Surprise flashed across the King’s face, mingled with intrigue. He had underestimated Lucifer.

  In that moment of hesitation, Lucifer prepared a follow-up attack, relentless and unyielding, intent on overwhelming the King before he could fully recover.

  Tomas thrust his palm toward Lucifer. A violent force surged outward, sending Lucifer crashing backward. His follow-up attack was cancelled, a gust of wind trailing from the release of Tomas’s power.

  Lucifer rose, dust swirling around him. A smirk curved his lips as he regarded Tomas. He unleashed a mere fraction of his true strength.

  The effect was instantaneous. The stadium seemed to shudder. Air itself felt heavy, suffocating. The crowd trembled, unable to withstand even this glimpse of his power.

  Even Lucifer felt it—the immense pressure radiating from the King, a weight that pressed on his body and mind.

  Undeterred, he pushed further, forcing his body beyond its limits. More power surged from him, dark and relentless, filling the arena with an almost tangible dread.

  The oppressive weight of the King’s power began to lessen on Lucifer. His own dark energy stacked atop it, amplifying the pressure across the arena.

  The crowd trembled under the combined force. Ordinary spectators felt their chests tighten, breaths shallow, as fear and awe twisted together in the air. Lucifer’s aura added a suffocating darkness that unsettled even the bravest.

  Yet there was a flaw in his unleashed strength. It could not be sustained for long.

  Tomas lunged, swinging a powerful right hook. Lucifer blocked, spun, and retaliated with a roundhouse kick. Tomas countered, and the clash continued—strike after strike, each blow echoing like thunder.

  For a time, it seemed they were evenly matched.

  But as Lucifer’s body slowed under the strain, Tomas gained the upper hand. His attacks began landing with devastating precision.

  Lucifer was knocked to the ground. He rose slowly, every movement deliberate. Tomas aimed for a finishing blow—but Lucifer intercepted, halting it with uncanny speed.

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  Lucifer began unconsciously emitting a dark purple aura. Tomas recoiled, eyes wide with alarm.

  In an instant, Lucifer appeared beneath him, delivering a crushing punch to his stomach. Tomas collapsed to one knee, gasping for breath.

  Lucifer raised his fist, aiming for the King’s head—but suddenly froze. Sparks crackled across his purple aura, dancing like fractured lightning.

  Moments later, his parents appeared. With swift precision, they knocked Lucifer unconscious and carried him away.

  The King rose, brushing his stomach as if shaking off dust. Then, with calm authority, he commanded the guards—especially the royal guard—to pursue Lucifer and his parents.

  By the time they reached his home, Lucifer was already aboard a spaceship, streaking away from the planet.

  Their attacks against the ship failed, repelled by an invisible barrier of immense power.

  As the guards arrested Lucifer’s parents, they watched helplessly. Lucifer vanished into the infinite depths of space.

  ….

  The sound of a baby’s cry echoed through the darkness, sharp and fragile.

  A mother emerged, cradling her child with tender affection, her arms a sanctuary against the void.

  The father’s gaze fell upon the infant, and a smile spread across his face. It was a boy.

  As they prepared to give him a name, time itself seemed to pause. The baby’s eyes glowed a piercing yellow, illuminating the shadows.

  When the light faded, time resumed, leaving a strange dizziness lingering over the parents.

  Despite the unsettling moment, they named their precious son. Lucifer.

  Five years later

  By the time Lucifer turned five, he had been secretly training in solitude.

  He honed his mana circulation, sharpened his swordsmanship, and perfected hand-to-hand combat, striving to reach the strength he had once possessed on Chronos.

  In less time than before, he regained his former power—and then surpassed it. Hours of extra training had pushed him beyond his previous limits.

  Yet a shadow lingered over him. He could not remember anything from the moment the King of Chronos struck him down. The lost memories gnawed at him, a silent frustration.

  Still, he refused to let it hinder his growth. He added more training, mastering axemanship and spearmanship, dedicating himself to understanding every form to its absolute core.

  Time passed, and Lucifer’s skill, strength, and resolve grew unrelenting, each strike and movement a step closer to his true potential.

  Eight years later

  Lucifer had just turned thirteen, old enough to attend school. His parents enrolled him in the Royal School of Magic and Swords.

  The school was prestigious, its halls filled with skilled instructors from diverse disciplines—and students from noble families across the realm. It was a place where one could unlock the full extent of their abilities.

  Lucifer, however, had no innate talent beyond a vast reservoir of magical power. Many mistook this raw strength for natural skill.

  Everything else he had mastered came from relentless mental and physical training, a discipline so extreme that even he struggled to explain it.

  Through sheer determination and relentless practice, he had honed his abilities to a level few could comprehend.

  When Lucifer arrived at the front entrance of the school, he felt nothing. The building was large, impressive to others, but to him it was mundane. Chronos had spoiled him—its simplest structures outshone even the Academy’s grandest halls.

  On his first day, he slipped into a classroom and took a seat at the back, keeping to himself. When questions on magic arose, he answered them with ease, quickly becoming the class’s top student in theory.

  In magic control, he was nothing short of a monster. Every motion precise yet instinctive, his power flowed like a river, unstoppable and unpredictable.

  Swordsmanship class proved equally challenging for the instructors. His attacks had no fixed form, yet every strike was fluid, natural, and devastatingly effective. Tracking him was nearly impossible.

  By the end of the day, Lucifer had made his presence known. He was not to be trifled with. He was not a noble, yet his skill alone drew envy and resentment from many who considered themselves his betters.

  A few days later, it was time for summoning class. This was the day students discovered the guardian beasts they were connected to—creatures believed to unlock the true potential hidden within their masters.

  Excitement buzzed through the room. Many dreamed of summoning dragons, the highest form of existence known to humans, though no one had ever succeeded.

  The class began. One by one, the children attempted their summons.

  Three stood out immediately, and of course, they were the nobles. A baby Griffin emerged, wings fluttering with untamed energy. A werewolf appeared, fur bristling, muscles coiled for combat. And a salamander, flames dancing along its scales, flicked its tail with fierce intensity.

  Each was a pinnacle in its own domain. The Griffin ruled the skies, swift and untouchable. The Werewolf reigned over close combat, relentless and brutal. The Salamander was a master of fire, a living inferno contained in flesh and bone.

  The other students could only watch, awe and envy mingling in their eyes.

  Finally, it was Lucifer’s turn.

  As a commoner, he drew little attention from the students. Even the teachers, though aware of his prowess in other classes, expected nothing extraordinary.

  He stepped forward and extended his hand, palm down. A needle pricked his skin. Blood dripped onto the floor. Silence fell—heavy and suffocating.

  The students laughed, jeering. “Useless trash,” they called him. The nobles smirked, pleased to see the commoner finally fail.

  Then the air thickened, pressing against every chest. Breathing became a labor.

  A black circle formed, centered around Lucifer’s blood. From it, jagged streaks of black lightning erupted, tearing through the space around him.

  Dust swirled violently, coating the students and teachers. And then… fourteen blood-red eyes appeared, emerging from the haze.

  The students and teachers stumbled back, fear rooting them to the spot.

  But Lucifer remained unmoving.

  What stepped out from the settling dust was beyond comprehension—horrific, otherworldly, and enough to make every witness question the very nature of reality.

  The first creature revealed itself: a tiger.

  The class teacher, pale and trembling, identified it as the Sabretooth Tiger of War—Hell’s most battle-crazed predator, a beast that knew nothing of defeat.

  Next emerged a three-headed wolf, its eyes glowing like embers. It was The Gatekeeper of Hell, fierce and unyielding, a guardian few dared approach.

  The third, towering above the others, was a colossal Hydra. Three heads reared into the air, each a nightmare unto itself. The Hydra was said to command the skies with iron claws, undefeated in battle. Legends whispered that if one head were severed, two more would take its place—but no mortal had ever come close enough to test the truth of the tale.

  The students and teachers could only stare, paralyzed by awe and terror. Lucifer’s summoning had shattered every expectation.

  Three of Hell’s most destructive creatures now stood before the room.

  Everyone except Lucifer stepped back in fear.

  He moved closer, unflinching. The beasts turned toward him, growling low, then erupted into a unified roar meant to instill terror. It had no effect.

  Lucifer stood before them, calm and resolute. The creatures lowered their heads.

  One by one, he placed his hand on each of them. As his palm met their fur and scales, a crimson light surged along his left arm. Three tattoos—one for each beast—burned into his skin, interweaving in intricate patterns.

  When the light faded, the creatures dissolved into mist, vanishing into Lucifer’s shadow.

  The marks remained on his arm—a permanent bond and a medium to summon them at will. Other students bore tattoos too, but Lucifer’s was undeniably different, a symbol of power that set him apart from all others.

  The students and teachers remained in shock, though gradually they composed themselves.

  All eyes turned to Lucifer. Whispers grew into shouts—“Demon! Devil! Monster!” The students hurled their words like weapons.

  Lucifer paid them no mind. He had no interest in entertaining their foolishness. He simply turned and left.

  Back in class, the other students trickled in, careful to avoid sitting near him. The teacher arrived, eyes lingering on Lucifer, but carried on with the lesson.

  Lucifer neither understood their fear nor cared. He had always been a loner.

  As the day ended, he walked through the schoolyard, only to be stopped by staff and the principal.

  The principal spoke, voice measured but firm: his summons were too unusual, tied to demons. He could no longer attend the school.

  Lucifer made no protest. Without a word, he turned and walked away, leaving the whispers and stares behind him.

  Lucifer returned home and recounted his day to his parents.

  The next morning, they went to the school to plead with the principal, but their efforts ended in failure.

  Word of Lucifer’s connection to demons spread quickly, carried by students and lecturers alike.

  Before long, the news reached the ears of the King.

  Trouble began quietly. Lucifer’s parents lost their jobs, with no explanation offered.

  Friends and neighbors distanced themselves, fearful of being implicated in a supposed demonic plot.

  Time passed, and then the King arrived at the Lucifer family home, flanked by his knights.

  He ordered them out of the house. Standing before him, the King demanded to know if they were connected to demons.

  They all denied it—Lucifer included.

  But the King had no intention of accepting their word.

  He summoned the kingdom’s most powerful mage to investigate, a man feared and revered throughout the capital. It was none other than the principal of the academy Lucifer had recently attended.

  Elora, Lucifer’s mother, showed no trace of demonic energy. Tyrion, his father, was the same—entirely human.

  Then it was Lucifer’s turn. The principal began his assessment, his eyes scanning for any trace of forbidden power.

  For a moment, all seemed normal.

  Then the principal saw it: a darkness so profound it felt alive. When he tried to probe deeper, the darkness glared back at him.

  A chill ran down his spine. The oppressive void threatened to consume him. He pulled back immediately, heart racing.

  When the examination ended, the principal collapsed, pale and shaken. He whispered, trembling, that Lucifer was one of the most evil beings he had ever seen.

  The King now had all the evidence he needed. He gave Lucifer’s parents a choice: surrender their son or face execution alongside him.

  Without hesitation, they chose to stand by their child.

  But before the King could issue the order, the sky itself split open.

  A man emerged from the crack in the sky, radiating an overwhelming presence. He called himself the Supreme Being, the God of Creation.

  A wave of warmth swept through everyone nearby. Instinctively, all fell to one knee—Lucifer’s parents, the King, the royal guards—all bowed before this godlike figure.

  But Lucifer remained standing.

  The Supreme Being spoke, his voice carrying authority that brooked no argument. He addressed everyone, especially the King: in a few days, he would take Lucifer to Heaven. No harm was to come to the boy.

  Though his parents despised the thought of losing their son, they could not speak against him. The Being’s presence silenced all fear and resistance.

  He reassured them, gently yet firmly, that Lucifer would be far safer with him than on Earth.

  The King spoke, his voice laced with disbelief. “Why take a demon to Heaven?”

  The Supreme Being’s reply was calm, unyielding: “He is not a demon. He is special.”

  Lucifer was granted three days to bid farewell to his parents. After that, a gate would appear before his home, a stairway leading to Heaven, where the Supreme Being would be waiting.

  Lucifer remained silent throughout the discussions. Even he understood that leaving with this godlike figure was the safest choice.

  He spent the next three days quietly, cherishing time with his parents.

  And then the day came. The day to leave.

  The King was there as well to make sure that Lucifer actually stepped onto the stairs and into the gate and so his parents gave him each long hugs and said their goodbyes, Elora began crying as she watched her only son walk into the gate and disappear. The gate close The King stood nearby, ensuring Lucifer would step onto the stairs and enter the gate.

  His parents embraced him tightly, lingering in the warmth of their last hugs. Words of farewell were whispered, heavy with love and sorrow.

  Elora’s tears fell freely as she watched her only son ascend the stairs and vanish into the gate.

  The gate closed behind him. The King’s expression held satisfaction, and he departed.

  Elora remained weeping, held gently by Tyrion. Together, they returned to the house, closing the door on their son’s absence.