The night had thickened around the cave, as if darkness itself held its breath. A step set down on the ground, heavy and precise, wrapped in bandages cracked by time. A black cloak, torn in places, covered a battered body. Where the fabric opened, one could see horrendous scars running across his ribs, like marks of battles no mortal could have survived.
His black hair fell in front of his face, but his eyes, with a cold, sharp gleam, pierced the darkness. In a low voice, almost a whisper that nonetheless sounded like an order, he declared:
— I know you're here. It would be better to come out now.
A quiet rustle came from the cave. Then a silhouette appeared. It was a woman wearing a white immaculate robe, floating slightly as if carried by an invisible breeze. Her skin, unnaturally pale, seemed made of marble, and her red-blood eyes pierced the night. Her gaze was not hostile; it was calm, almost clinical, imbued with a icy intelligence.
— You really came… she said in a measured tone, with no trace of surprise.
The boy remained silent, watching her without blinking.
A second woman emerged from the cave. Her black dress contrasted with the white of the other. Her jet-black hair framed a face tightened by palpable distrust. Her eyes shone with a hard, less serene, more cutting glare.
— So this is the one you've been waiting for, all this time… Satan?
The name rang in the air, heavy with meaning. The woman in white was indeed Satan. Not Lucifer, as many souls had believed, but Satan: the one who offered the forbidden fruit to Eve. Long manipulated by Lucifer, she had borne multiple names: Sata, Erashia, Hinata… Each alias hid a story, a scar, a fall. Her past was woven of rebellions and faults, but what remained before them today was an entity of abyssal knowledge, a serenity forged in the fire of the millennia.
At her side stood Raiku, her most faithful ally since their defeat against Thanato and Apollo, in times so ancient that even the gods dared not speak of them.
— Do not worry, Raiku, Satan replied with a calm smile. This human intrigues me. Or should I say… this Deviant human.
The target, Bakuzan, remained imperturbable. His eyes, cold and impenetrable, revealed nothing. He observed. He evaluated.
Satan advanced slowly toward him, her step light contrasting with the gravity of her words:
— Look at your body… she said softly. You must have paid a terrible price to become the Deviant you are.
Bakuzan did not answer. His silence carried more weight than words.
Then, in his shadow, a silhouette unfolded. A monstrous demon creature surged from his darkness, its limbs twisted, its face deformed, exhaling an impious essence.
But in an instant — switch!
A head rolled on the ground, striking the stones with a sharp sound. The body still standing wavered before collapsing, inert. Raiku slightly widened her eyes, seized despite herself. Satan, she, offered a almost amused smile.
Bakuzan still held his sword dripping with an obscure aura, like a living shadow. The mana escaping from it moved like a malignant mist, corrupting the air around him. Slowly, he raised his head toward Satan, his words sharp as the blade he held:
— You may be great mythical creatures… you do not inspire me with fear.
Behind him, the primordial demon's body began to disintegrate. Its flesh dissolved into black swirls, then into fine burnt dust, as if erased from existence itself.
Silence fell in the clearing, heavy, menacing. Satan, immobile, watched Bakuzan with cold intensity, while Raiku clenched her fists, torn between fear and anger.
Raiku stepped forward, her eyes burning with anger.
— Who does this human think he is? Does he have any idea who we are?
Her voice cracked like thunder in the cave, but before she could go further, Satan raised a gracious hand. The simple, calm gesture cut off her companion's momentum. Raiku, tense, gritted her teeth and then kicked a stone that skittered into the darkness.
— Damn it!… she grumbled, crossing her arms with a sigh of frustration.
Satan, she had not moved. She fixed Bakuzan with an intense, strange look, as if her gaze penetrated the flesh to search what simmered beneath. Her tone, soft but sharp, vibrated in the air:
— You know… in the world of myths, you don't get very far with so much arrogance. Especially when you're a mere mortal like…
She paused. Her smile froze, her face losing a moment of serenity. Her eyes seemed to widen, almost fascinated. She no longer saw merely a body, nor even a Deviant… but an essence. And this essence, she recognized immediately.
Satan's breath became almost a stifled laugh. Then, in a whisper vibrating with sudden desire, she pronounced:
— Ebon Woe… The Black Grief.
Raiku lifted her head, puzzled.
Satan then offered a smile, this time tinted with an excitement that was hard to contain.
— So it's you… the most powerful Deviant history has borne. A legend. I must admit, it is a rare honor to meet you. A meeting between two myths… What do you say?
But Bakuzan did not answer. His gaze remained cold, his voice direct, unflinching:
— Who is Lucifer? Who is Lilith? And what is the shadow that rules Samael?
Satan's smile dropped at once. Her serenity took on a harder, almost icy shade.
— You ask a lot of questions… she said in a neutral tone. I suppose one of them is among your future targets, isn't it?
She slowly crossed her arms, tilting her head with a disdainful air:
— But without wanting to offend you… you do not yet have the stature to face even one of those you just named.
— That is none of your business, Bakuzan replied in a sharp voice.
He plunged a hand into his pocket and pulled out a black stone. It vibrated gently, saturated with a moving shadow, as if it contained a living curse. A heavy, oppressive aura emanated from it, filling the cave with indistinct whispers.
— In this stone rests the essence of Nihlorgue, the Dragon of the Void, he said calmly.
Satan and Raiku froze. The silence stretched, and only the dark hum of the stone filled the air.
— If you give me what I want to know… Bakuzan continued, I will offer it to you.
He held the stone forward, like a sacred weapon.
But Satan burst into a crystalline laugh, a laugh that resonated with mocking cruelty.
— I care nothing for your Dragon of the Void.
Bakuzan widened his eyes, surprised despite his cold blood. No one had ever refused such an offer. Nihlorgue was more than a dragon: he had been forged from the condensed ego of all the Dragon Heirs, an entity of incalculable value. Yet Satan had just rejected his price with insulting nonchalance.
— I hope, she continued with a predatory smile, that it isn't this miserable stone that gave you the illusion of having an advantage… to the point of speaking to me as if you dominated me.
Bakuzan, still stunned, stood motionless for a moment. Then he slowly sheathed the stone, regaining his implacable calm.
— So… he said gravely, I could offer you something else in exchange for your information.
Satan and Raiku exchanged a brief glance. The first, amused and calculating, the second, wary and bubbling.
And in the air now hung a new tension: Bakuzan had not yet exhausted his cards.
Satan stepped forward, slow, feline, as if gravity no longer bound her body. Her face came so close to Bakuzan's that their breaths seemed to mingle. Her voice, barely a whisper, drifted over him like a spell:
— You ask me what I want?
Before he could react, a forked, fine, glossy tongue extended from her mouth. It brushed Bakuzan's cheek, drawing a wet, icy line on his skin. The contact would have sent shivers down anyone, but he remained motionless. Not a movement, not a blink.
Satan slowly withdrew her tongue, hid it behind her lips, then closed her eyes. A crazed, almost ecstatic smile formed on her face.
— I love the taste you have… she whispered, as if savoring a forbidden essence.
When she reopened her eyes, they shone with a carnivorous gleam. Her tone changed, become solemn and imperial.
— I have two things you must accomplish for me. The first… is to find my legendary name.
Bakuzan frowned slightly.
— Your legendary name?
— Yes, she replied without hesitation. You, you are named Bakuzan, but your legendary name is Ebon Woe, the Black Grief. This is not a mere nickname: it is the seal of your legend, the appellation that transcends your existence to be inscribed in eternity.
She took another step, her breath sliding to Bakuzan's ear.
— All gods, all demons, all beings bear a legendary name. Some have no real name left, only the one forged by narration itself. So tell me… what is mine? You will have only one chance.
A heavy silence fell.
Bakuzan slowly lowered his eyelids. In the darkness of his mind, he summoned the fragments of scattered stories he had ripped from his journey through the Narrative. He, become a flux of information, could plumb the deepest corners of dreams, exhume forbidden tales, dive into erased archives of the ages. The whispers of the past flooded in: the forbidden chants of the Hebrews, the apocryphal chronicles, the secrets whispered in forgotten temples.
Each voice, each image formed a burning fabric in his mind. The silhouettes of Lucifer, Lilith, Samael rose, but behind them he discerned the pale shadow of a woman, clothed in white, the one who had whispered in Eve's ear. The silent instigator, never truly named.
The fragments of stories clashed in Bakuzan's mind. Ancient chants, apocryphal whispers, shattered visions of ages past. Gradually, he wove a synthesis, as if the myth's fabric was recomposing before his eyes.
He thought, in silence: Satan… the primordial serpent. The serpent of sin. The one who made Eve bite the forbidden fruit. A cursed serpent, the very incarnation of sin. Later, she became Apophis, the shadow that would swallow the world of existence, before running into Adam and falling.
The images grew clearer. A serpent no one dared to follow, for it betrayed all who trusted it. A serpent so vast and terrifying that it had devoured entities themselves immortal.
And always, a human silhouette returned in the flood of memories: a man who had faced him many times. A man capable of giving names to mythical identities. His power to name was not absolute, but he drew directly from the divine, and granted him, for a moment, the power of the gods themselves. This man was none other than Adam, the primal one, the living image of the Creator. The one who could become the apostle of all gods and embody their powers.
Then, amid the visions, a voice sounded in Bakuzan's head. Grave, ancient, resonant, endlessly repeating the same word, like a bell beating at the heart of history. The voice of Adam.
Bakuzan opened his eyes. His voice broke the silence, heavy with certainty:
— The serpent who coils around the world…
He fixed his gaze on Satan, unblinking.
— Your legendary name is: The Serpent Who Coils Around the World.
A thrill passed through the air. Time seemed to suspend.
Satan, initially rigid, broke into a smile that split her features. Her cheeks reddened with an unexpected, almost juvenile hue. She whispered, as if intoxicated by memories:
— That… has been so long since he hadn't called me that…
Her eyes burned with a gleam that mixed desire, pride, and nostalgia. He. The one she spoke of was none other than Adam, the man who had fought her, again and again, protecting the world from the serpent that would swallow it.
And for the first time in centuries, Satan seemed vulnerable.