The sky above the Demon Realm bled a deep red, clouds swirling like smoke over a battlefield long forgotten.
The air was heavy, almost thick with the scent of sulfur, old magic, and something far more potent: fear.
In the distance, towers spiralled like fangs of some blackened animal, standing as silent witnesses to the event that was soon going to change the world forever.
And at the heart of it all was a throne.
It sat atop a jagged platform of volcanic stone, carved from the very bones of Hell itself.
The throne was towering, gothic and beautiful in a way only something dangerous could be.
Black iron and scorched gold coiled together to form its arms and back, while blood-red rubies glimmered across its frame like cursed stars.
Fire danced lazily around its base, not wild or uncontrolled, but as if bowing in reverence.
Upon it sat a human—a demon—no, something far beyond either.
Lucifer Morningstar.
The man looked nothing like the frail human he once was.
He wore confidence like a second skin, a long black coat draped over his broad shoulders, its hem brushing the polished stage beneath his boots.
The coat simmered faintly with enchantments, shifting slightly as if alive.
He scanned the sea of faces with his grey as ash eyes, not nervously, but with slow, calculated amusement as he slicked a strand of his white hair to the back of his forehead.
A crown hovered slightly above him, suspended in mid-air by a ring of spinning sigils that hummed with divine and infernal energy alike.
It was a twisted halo of onyx and fire, crafted in the celestial forges before heaven and Earth.
It waited, just inches from resting on the man's brow.
Before him stretched a crowd that defied imagination.
Thousands upon thousands stood there, packed shoulder to shoulder on the endless black plains that encircled the throne.
There were demons of all shapes and terrors—horned, winged, clawed, scaled…and all of them were bowing their heads in silent reverence.
Vampires in royal garb stood stiffly beside the werewolves draped in bones. Witches, warlocks, and necromancers stood cloaked and unmoving in shadow.
Among them were elves with silver eyes, fairies cloaked in stardust, and even humans, their faces pale with fear but too afraid to disobey the invitation they'd received.
No one had dared to ignore the summons.
After all…to refuse would mean something even worse than death itself.
And there he sat, legs casually parted, one arm resting lazily on the throne's armrest, the other loosely holding a goblet of wine that shone with ghostly whispers.
His fingers were adorned with rings—each one a relic of a war fought and won, a rival dethroned, a god betrayed.
Beside him, half-perched on the other armrest, sat a girl.
She looked small in contrast to the monstrous throne, but she carried an aura that made even the boldest demons keep their distance.
Her hair was a cascade of dark ink, falling past her shoulders in tangled waves.
The girl wore a long coat not unlike his, though hers was tattered at the edges and stitched with silver thread that caught the light like moonlight on water.
Her eyes were midnight pools, endless, knowing, and somewhat tired.
She leaned in, her lips brushing close to Lucifer's ear, as she whispered something to him that only he could hear.
"Luci… we made it, didn't we?"
Lucifer's smile was slow, dangerous—like the sun rising over a battlefield still soaked in blood.
He didn't answer her.
Not with words.
Instead, the 6 foot man rose to his feet.
With a single, fluid motion, he stood from his throne, and the world seemed to hold its breath.
The crown above him flared with light, sensing the moment.
The crowd, consisting of thousands and thousands of people, went deathly silent. Even the fire around the throne lowered its flames, flickering in quiet awe as Lucifer raised his hand—just one.
No words were spoken.
Yet silence fell across the plains like a spell.
He looked down at them all, grey eyes gleaming with a kind of madness—the kind born not from chaos, but from purpose.
From victory.
He stepped forward, his voice echoing louder than any trumpet and sharper than any sword.
"I… Lucifer Morningstar, hereby pledge to rule above Heaven and Earth…and everything that comes in between."
There was a shift in the air.
The crown descended, slow and deliberate as the runes spun faster, casting extreme heat in the surroundings.
And just as it was about to land on his head, Lucifer turned his gaze back to the crowd.
And smiled.
And then he laughed.
It started low, like a purr, and rose into something wild and full of delight.
The sound echoed through the Demon Realm like a war cry that would never end.
It wasn't madness.
It wasn't joy.
It was simply triumph.
A pure…and total victory over whatever this great being's goal was—
No one knew where he had come from or how he had taken over the world so fast, but seeing him holding out both his arms now, embracing the crowd, the sky, and the universe?
Every single being witnessed how the crown locked into place with a flash of hellfire.
Thunder crackled across the sky, and even as the figure of Lucifer blurred, everyone knew a simple fact.
The world would never be the same again.
***