The house stood as my sanctuary, a two-story bastion of suburban normalcy where Mom's curry simmered on Sundays and Dad's bad jokes echoed from the garage.
Today, a Saturday, the air was thick with the scent of rain-soaked earth from last night's shower, the windows fogged slightly as I lounged in the living room. Asia was in the kitchen, her Agility making cookie-baking a ballet, golden fields from her Balance Breaker idly mending a chipped plate.
Raynare sprawled on the couch beside me, her head in my lap, violet eyes half-lidded as she traced patterns on my thigh with a finger, her Intelligence plotting our next "date" amid the Excalibur whispers.
Kalawarner and Mittelt were out—Kalawarner at the gym, Mittelt "shopping" with illusions to snag free samples—their absence leaving the house in a rare hush.
I flipped through a manga, the panels of heroic clashes a pale echo of my life, when the familiar azure chime pierced the quiet. The Gamer System's blue screen materialized, its glow catching Raynare's eye—she'd grown accustomed to my "hunches," attributing them to draconic whims, the soul-erasure restriction ensuring I'd never spill the truth. Gamer's Mind steadied my pulse, the weight of the words sinking in like lead.
System Directive: Archival Revival
Alert: Historical anomaly detected. The Great War's fallen demand balance. User required for resurrection protocol.
New Quest: Morningstar's Return
Objective: Resurrect the original Lucifer, fallen in the ancient battle between Angels, Fallen Angels, and Devils. Locate his essence (scattered in the Underworld's Abyss) and utilize Resurrection Sacred Gear to restore him to full power. Ensure discretion—his return must remain hidden from current factions.
Rewards:
Lucifer becomes your Best Friend (80/100 relationship score; unlocks Morningstar alliances and forbidden knowledge).
Failure Penalty: Lucifer's essence destabilizes, triggering a dimensional rift; -50 to all stats, permanent -20 Luck.
Time Limit: 7 Days
Activation: Coordinates to Lucifer's essence provided upon acceptance. [Y/N]
The screen hovered, its implications crashing like thunder. Lucifer—the original Morningstar, progenitor of the Fallen Angels, architect of rebellion against Heaven, slain in the Great War's cataclysm.
Not the title Sirzechs bore as Satan Lucifer, but the archangel himself, his essence a shattered relic in the Underworld's depths. Resurrecting him? A best friend reward at 80/100, unlocking alliances that could upend the biblical factions.
But the risk—dimensional rifts, faction wars—made my Intelligence whirl with strategies. Ddraig's voice boomed: "The Devil King himself? Bold, partner. He'll either crown you or consume you. Choose wisely."
Raynare sat up, her hand on my chest, sensing the shift. "Another vision? You look like you've seen a ghost—or worse."
I forced a grin, the restriction binding my tongue. "Something like that. Big one—Underworld dive. Need to handle it solo. You girls keep the home fires burning?"
Her violet eyes searched mine, her devotion flaring with concern. "Solo? Issei, you're not invincible. Take Asia—her healing's a godsend."
"Can't," I said, kissing her forehead, the lie smooth under Gamer's Mind. "It's... draconic business. Trust me?"
She sighed, pulling me into a fierce kiss, her light spears' aura flickering faintly. "Always. But come back whole, or I'll drag you myself."
Asia poked her head in, flour on her cheek, her Intelligence catching the tension. "Issei? Everything okay?" She radiated worry, Twilight fields instinctively glowing.
"Yeah," I lied again, hugging her. "Quick trip. Cookies for when I get back?"
She nodded, golden light brushing my skin—a healer's promise. The fallen trio gathered—Kalawarner and Mittelt returning mid-text, their shopping bags illusion-shrouded. Hugs and warnings followed: Kalawarner's bone-crushing embrace ("Crush whatever it is"), Mittelt's playful illusion of a "good luck charm" dragon ("Fly safe!"). I stepped into the backyard, the teleport coordinates burning in my mind, and activated—reality folding into the Underworld's Abyss.
________________
The Abyss of the Fallen
The transition was a plummet through void, the air turning frigid and thick with the scent of brimstone and forgotten sins. The Abyss—a chasm beneath the Underworld, a graveyard of the Great War where angels' wings had burned and devils' horns had shattered.
Jagged obsidian spires thrust from a floor of cracked earth, rivers of liquid shadow winding through, the sky a perpetual twilight pierced by distant crimson stars. My Agility landed me softly on a ledge, Boosted Gear humming, Phoenix Force's 10% coiling cosmic flames around my fists.
Observe scanned the desolation: no immediate threats, but echoes of ancient power lingered—shattered halos, rusted spears, the faint hum of fallen essence.
The coordinates guided me deeper, a mental map from the system plotting a path through labyrinthine tunnels.
Ddraig growled: "This place reeks of old blood. Lucifer's spark—it's here, buried deep. Dig careful, partner; the dead don't like visitors."
I descended, my endurance shrugging off the chill that seeped into bones, my intelligence mapping pitfalls—collapsing ledges, shadow tendrils that lashed like whips (HP dipping to 15,800/16,000 from a graze, self-heal via mental Twilight focus). The essence pulsed ahead, a fractured crystal embedded in a throne of blackened bone, radiating pride and sorrow. Lucifer's core—once an archangel's light, now a fallen star.
Resurrection Sacred Gear activated, a golden pulse from my core weaving threads of life through the void. The crystal trembled, cracks glowing, the air thickening with ozone and thunder. Energy drained (MP 7,500/8,000), but the threads held, pulling fragments from the Abyss—scattered motes of power drawn like iron to a lodestone.
The throne cracked, light erupting, a figure coalescing: tall, broad-shouldered, with raven hair cascading to shoulders, eyes like polished obsidian, wings of obsidian feathers unfurling with a crack like breaking ice. Lucifer Morningstar, the Lightbringer, reborn—not the devilish caricature, but a being of tragic majesty, his aura a storm of pride and regret.
He gasped, collapsing to one knee, his voice a rumble like distant thunder. "What... is this? The void... ended?" His eyes—ancient, piercing—locked on me, Observe revealing:
Name: Lucifer Morningstar
Level: ??? (Transcendent)
HP: 50,000/50,000
MP: 25,000/25,000
Strength: 300
Endurance: 300
Agility: 280
Intelligence: 350
Luck: 200
Abilities: Morningstar Wings (flight, shadow manipulation), Pride's Flame (infernal blasts, pride-based buffs), Archangel's Legacy (holy-dark hybrid magic).
Thoughts About You: "The boy who calls me back... a dragon's host, with light in his veins. Not angel, not devil—something new. Intriguing... ally?"
Relationship: Neutral (50/100)
I extended a hand, Gamer's Mind keeping my voice steady. "Issei Hyoudou. You were dead—Great War casualty. I... brought you back. The world's changed, Lucifer. Factions rebuilt, but the old wars echo."
He rose, towering yet graceful, his wings folding with a whisper. His gaze weighed me, intelligence dissecting my soul. "Resurrection... forbidden art. You wield light and shadow, boy—Twilight's touch, dragon's roar. Why me? The Morningstar, fallen and forgotten."
"The fate demanded balance," I said, dodging the restriction. "You're the original. Devils need your legacy, fallen your fire. But stay hidden. Disguise yourself—normal guy, no true name. Crash at my place. My girls... they're everything. No risks."
Lucifer's laugh was a low rumble, echoing off spires. "A dragon hiding the Devil King in his den? Amusing. Very well, Issei. For now, I'm 'Luke'—a wanderer, unremarkable." His form shimmered, wings vanishing, aura dimming to human levels (stats veiled at 100 for disguise). "Lead on. This 'best friend' pact... we'll see."
The teleport pulled us back, coordinates aligning to my backyard. Five seconds passed—Asia's cookies cooled on the counter, Raynare's tablet forgotten. Lucifer—Luke—blinked at the suburban normalcy, his obsidian eyes widening at the picket fence. "This... is your realm? Quaint."
"Welcome home," I said, clapping his shoulder. "Rules: no wings, no flames, no 'Morningstar.' Luke Morningstar—wait, bad pun. Just Luke. My parents think you're a cousin. Girls... they're fallen, but loyal. Don't spill."
He nodded, a smirk playing—pride tempered by curiosity. "Your harem intrigues. Lead, friend."
The door opened to chaos—Raynare's spears half-formed, Asia's fields glowing, Kalawarner and Mittelt mid-return. "Issei—?" Raynare froze, sensing Luke's veiled power.
"A friend," I said smoothly. "Luke. Needs a place. Family stuff."
Luke smiled, disarming, his strength hidden in a casual wave. "Pleasure. Heard great things about your... hospitality."
Suspicion lingered—Raynare's Observe thoughts: "Powerful... ancient. Issei's call, so trust." But their devotion held. Asia offered cookies, her warmth breaking ice. "Welcome, Luke! Try the chocolate chip—they're my best yet."
Dinner was a trial—Mom and Dad home early, grilling "Cousin Luke" on "job prospects." He charmed with vague tales of "travel consulting," his Intelligence spinning lies like silk. The girls watched, Mittelt's illusions ready for slips. Night fell, Luke in the guest room, his presence a secret storm.
Days blurred—Luke blending, sparring veiled (his Pride's Flame syncing with my Phoenix), sharing war tales that chilled. "The Great War... brothers against brothers. I fell for pride, but regret lingers." His score climbed to 60/100, a best friend's foundation.
One evening, as rain pattered, he confided: "You resurrected a king, boy. Why?"
"Fate," I said. "And... balance. You're more than a devil—you're legend."
His laugh echoed. "Then let's make new ones, Issei. Best friends forge empires."
The Morningstar walked among us, disguised and silent, his return a quest's gift—and a world's reckoning.