Lucian POV
Two years have passed since that night at my house—the night Seraphim came to
me, desperate and wide-eyed, seeking guidance. He's no longer the bright-eyed
inspector he was back then. Now, he's the branch manager overseeing both
Cylvana and Caelum. The weight of leadership has reshaped him into a figure of
authority, someone who commands respect.
As for me? I'm still in the shadows, but also in the light. The world knows me as
the president of Blackwell Industries, a name synonymous with power and
progress. But behind the scenes, I've cemented my influence further, operating
as a "civil consultant" for the Bureau, thanks to Seraphim's insistence. Together,
we've formed a Guild that bridges the divide between corporations and awakened
governance—a partnership the public lauds as revolutionary. In truth, it's just
another piece of my game, a pawn I've moved into place.
Seraphim pretends to lead, and I pretend to listen. Much like I'm doing now.
His office is practical, efficient—everything I'd expect from him. The dark oak
desk stands as the centerpiece, perfectly organized with neatly stacked reports
and a single tablet. Shelves line the walls, filled with binders, manuals, and the
occasional book, all meticulously aligned. A small potted plant near the window
tries to inject life into the otherwise stark space. Sunlight filters through halfdrawn blinds, casting angular shadows on the floor, a contrast to the sharp
professionalism that defines him.
I sit in one of the guest chairs, relaxed and composed, as Seraphim listens to his
subordinate deliver the day's reports.
"And that concludes Caelum's report, sir," the subordinate says, standing stiffly
by the desk with a tablet in hand. His tone is measured, but I catch the flicker
of unease when his gaze briefly meets mine.
Seraphim leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers—a subtle tell of his focus.
"And Cylvana's report?"
The subordinate hesitates for a moment before replying, "It's still being compiled,
sir. It'll be on your desk by the end of the day."
Seraphim nods once, his expression unreadable. "Very well. You're dismissed."
The subordinate gives a sharp nod and pivots to leave, his shoulders stiff with
tension as he passes me. I smirk faintly, amused by his discomfort. The door
closes behind him with a soft click, leaving Seraphim and me alone in the room.
Seraphim exhales, his professional demeanor softening slightly. He fixes me with
a skeptical look. "You're awfully quiet," he remarks. "And in my experience,
whenever you're quiet, something bad is about to happen."
I let out a low chuckle, leaning back in my chair. "Don't worry, Seraphim. I'm just
here to enjoy the show."
His eyes narrow, but he doesn't press further. Instead, he gestures toward the
pile of reports on his desk. "If you're going to sit there and watch, you might as
well make yourself useful. Care to help with these?"
I rise to my feet, smoothing my suit jacket with a smirk. "I'd love to, but
unfortunately, I'm not in the mood. And, as you know, I have a company to run."
He sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Of course you do."
I head toward the door, pausing as I reach the threshold. "Don't overwork
yourself, Seraphim. Burnout doesn't suit you." With that, I leave his office, the
door clicking shut behind me.
The hallways of the Bureau branch are sterile and quiet, with the faint hum of
fluorescent lights overhead. As I make my way to my personal office, I can't help
but feel the familiar thrill of control coursing through me. Every step I take
reminds me of how far I've come—not just as Lucian Blackwell, but as the
orchestrator of this grand game.
I enter my office, a stark contrast to Seraphim's. Where his space is a reflection
of duty and discipline, mine is a haven of calculated indulgence. Floor-to-ceiling
windows offer a sweeping view of Cylvana's skyline, the city lights twinkling like
scattered jewels against the encroaching dusk. The furniture is sleek and modern,
with a glass desk that glimmers under the ambient lighting. A decanter of aged
whiskey sits on a side table, a single glass already waiting for me.
As I settle into my chair, the weight of the day begins to ease, though my mind
remains sharp.
The Demon King stirs.
"Lucian," his voice rumbles, deep and resonant, echoing within my thoughts. "Still
playing human, I see."
I smirk, pouring myself a drink. "And you're still as dramatic as ever."
He chuckled, his voice a low rumble. "Dramatic, am I? Says the man who's built an
empire on whispers and shadows. You've always been good at theatrics, Lucian."
"As soon as I get in my office, you start with this?" I muttered, leaning back and
crossing my arms. "You're predictable."
"Call it theatrics if you want," I said, tapping the desk lightly, each sound
deliberate. "But let's not forget who's been the real performer in this
arrangement." My gaze locked with his, cold and unyielding. "You wanted Seraphim
dead. That so-called 'divine stench' of his was unbearable to you. Yet here we are.
Look at him now—he's under my control. Leading while I watch from the shadows.
Funny how things work out, isn't it?"
The Demon King's form rippled, irritation seeping into the air. "Control? Is that
what you think this is? Keeping him alive isn't control; it's hesitation. You had the
perfect opportunity to crush him, to rid yourself of a threat, but instead, you..."
"I let him live," I interrupted, my tone sharp. "Because he serves a purpose.
Seraphim believes he's leading the charge for justice while I pull the strings. He's
a pawn, and pawns don't get taken off the board until they've served their use."
"Pawns?" His voice carried a sneer. "You call him a pawn, yet you waste time
watching his little crusades, indulging his naïve ideals. You think you're different
from the others who've wielded power like this? You're not."
I exhaled slowly, letting his words fall away like dust. "I didn't take this power to
be like anyone else. I took it because I needed to. And because I know how to use
it better than you ever could."
The Demon King's laughter was low and biting. "Better than me? That's rich coming
from someone teetering on the edge of oblivion. You feel it, don't you? The hunger.
The pull. Every time you use my power, it tightens its grip. A leash you can't
escape."
I smirked, folding my hands on the desk. "A leash? You're mistaken. It's a tool,
nothing more. And unlike you, I know how to wield it without letting it consume
me."
The shadows darkened further, his presence pressing against the edges of the
room. "You think you're in control, but you're playing a dangerous game, Lucian.
You toy with forces you can't fully comprehend. Every move you make draws you
deeper into my grasp."
I stood, brushing an invisible speck of dust from my jacket as I fixed him with a
cold, steady gaze. "The difference between us, Demon King, is that I'm not afraid
of the cost. I knew what I was getting into when I made this deal. You gave me
the power, yes. But the game? That's mine. My rules, my moves. And when this
ends, it'll be on my terms, not yours."
His form twisted, his shadowy figure rippling like smoke caught in a draft. "Your
arrogance will be your undoing."
"Maybe," I said, stepping toward the window that overlooked the city's glowing
skyline. "But until that day comes, sit back and enjoy the show."
The Demon King's laughter lingered, fading into the stillness as his form
disappeared. The air grew colder in his absence, but I welcomed it.
For a moment, I stood there, staring out at the city below. Then, with a deep
breath, I turned back to my desk. There was still work to be done, plans to set in
motion, and people to manipulate. After all, I had a company to run—and a war to
prepare for.
The conversation I'd just had played over in my mind, every word, every subtle
intonation. Seraphim was predictable, but that didn't make him any less dangerous.
Even pawns could disrupt a game if left unchecked.
I leaned back in my chair, the leather cool against my back, and exhaled slowly.
"Two years," I muttered under my breath. Two years of maneuvering, of balancing
the act between control and chaos, power and purpose. Two years of pretending.
And yet, despite all that I'd achieved, the gnawing emptiness lingered—a void that
power alone couldn't fill. My fingers absently brushed the edge of the desk, where
a faint hum of warmth radiated from the mark that tied me to him.
A wry smile crossed my lips.
And so the sun came to fall.
I stood up faced the window, and I stood there, staring out at the sprawling city
below. The glittering lights that once seemed infinite now felt... insignificant. My
reflection in the glass stared back, faint and distorted by the faint glow of the
mark beneath my shirt.
I clenched my fists, feeling the weight of my own limitations pressing down on me.
I'd pushed harder, fought longer, and climbed higher than anyone else—but still,
it wasn't enough. It never was.
"Is this it?" I muttered, the frustration simmering beneath my calm exterior. "Is
this the limit of the power I can reach?" My fingers twitched against the glass
as the thought took root. "I need more. I deserve more."
The air behind me shifted, growing heavier and charged, and I knew he was there
before I turned.
A mirage of flickering blue flames coalesced in the corner of the room, twisting
and writhing until it formed a towering, otherworldly figure. The Demon King—
equal parts captivating and menacing—emerged from the ethereal light.
"Ah, my little king," he said, his voice dripping with mockery and glee. "Finally.
Finally, you've come to your senses." His grin spread wide, flames dancing like
laughter around his face.
I didn't even bother to turn fully, just cast a sideways glance at him. "Two years
of you showing up uninvited, and it still doesn't get less exhausting."
His laughter boomed, echoing against the walls. "Tired of me already? Oh, Lucian,
we're just getting started. You should be thanking me. After all, who else would
be here to guide you down this glorious path?"
"I don't need your guidance," I said flatly, stepping away from the window and
crossing the room. "What I need is more power. What I have isn't enough."
"And that's why I'm here," he said, his tone shifting slightly—less playful now,
more measured. The flickering light around him dimmed, and his fiery eyes
sharpened. "You've realized the truth, Lucian. This isn't the limit of your power.
There's more—so much more waiting for you. But you'll have to take it."
I stopped at my desk, leaning against its edge, my arms crossed. "And here I
thought you'd finally run out of cryptic nonsense. What are you getting at this
time?"
The flames around him steadied, his expression growing colder, sharper. "A relic,"
he said, his voice low, almost reverent. "A key forged by the Goddess of Time
herself. It's hidden in the human realm, broken into three pieces, scattered
across this world like breadcrumbs. Only one with your will, your hunger, can claim
it."
"A relic tied to time?" I raised an eyebrow, skepticism lacing my words. "And what
exactly does this key unlock?"
The Demon King smiled, but it wasn't the mocking grin I'd come to expect. This
one was different—colder, more deliberate. "It opens a door, Lucian. A door to
more power than you can imagine."
My gaze narrowed, my mind racing with the implications. "Why tell me this now?
If you've known about it all this time, why wait two years?"
"Because you weren't ready," he said simply, his fiery gaze unyielding. "Power isn't
just about strength, Lucian. It's about understanding what you're willing to do to
claim it. And now, I can see it in you. The hunger. The resolve. You'll do whatever
it takes."
"Don't act like you know me," I said, my tone ice-cold. "If this relic is what I need
to break through this ceiling, then fine. I'll find it. But don't expect me to play
along with your games."
The Demon King's grin returned, his form rippling with satisfaction. "You'll find it,
little king. But make no mistake—this isn't a game. The gods won't take kindly to
you seeking what belongs to them. And the guardians who protect the relics?
They'll tear you apart if you're not ready."
"I've faced worse," I said, my tone flat, dismissive. "Where do I start?"
"Beneath the ruins of Cylvana," he replied, his voice dipping into a menacing
whisper. "That's where the first piece lies. But don't get cocky, Lucian. You've only
scratched the surface of what's coming."
I stared at him, unflinching. "Save the warnings. I'll handle it."
The Demon King let out a low chuckle, his form beginning to dissipate, the blue
flames flickering and fading into the air. "Then go, little king. Seek the relic, claim
your destiny, and show the gods that their reign is over."
As his presence vanished, the room grew quiet again, the weight of his words
settling over me like a storm cloud.
I glanced down at the faint glow of the mark on my chest, the symbol that bound
me to him. "Three pieces," I murmured to myself. "If that's what it takes, I'll find
them. Nothing will stop me."
Pushing off from the desk, I straightened my jacket and strode toward the door.
The first step was clear—now it was time to take it.
The night outside was eerily quiet, as though the world itself held its breath. As
I stepped out of my office and into the hallway, I couldn't shake the feeling that
something had shifted—some invisible thread had tightened, pulling me further
into the Demon King's web.
But this wasn't about him. This was about me.
I didn't need his approval, his schemes, or his cryptic warnings. The relic wasn't a
temptation—it was a necessity. If it truly held the power to push me beyond my
limits, then I'd claim it. Piece by piece, guardian by guardian, I'd take what was
mine.
The mark on my chest pulsed faintly as I moved through the building, its glow
hidden beneath layers of fabric but impossible to ignore. Its presence was a
constant reminder, both of the power I'd gained and the price I might yet pay
for it.
Outside, the city stretched endlessly, lights twinkling like stars against the
darkness. For all their brilliance, they were just a façade—fragile, fleeting.
I would change that.
With every step I took, the world would bend, break, and reshape itself in my
image. Not the gods', not the Demon King's—mine.
As the elevator doors closed in front of me, I allowed myself one final thought:
The pieces of the relic are just the beginning. This world isn't ready for what I'm
going to become.
The doors slid shut, sealing me away in the silence.
And for the first time in years, I smiled.