Lucifer stood silent.
The wind blew ash across his feet, carrying faint sparks from distant fires. His wings shifted behind him, feathers curling inward as his molten eyes locked onto the clone before him. For a long moment, neither moved. Their auras pulsed softly against each other, rippling through the cracked street like quiet thunder.
The clone tilted his head slightly. His black hair fell across his blood-smeared face, eyes glowing with that flickering, broken red light. His grin faded into something calmer. Something emptier.
Lucifer narrowed his gaze. He saw it. This one… he was not like the others. There was no blind hunger in his eyes. No mindless rage. Just… quiet purpose. Quiet longing. He felt it like a faint echo against his own aura.
"What do you want?" Lucifer asked softly. His voice was quiet, carrying through the ruined street with the weight of something final. Something tired.
