Chapter 338: Father And Son 1
Lucifer sat at the kitchen counter, fingers curled loosely around the warm porcelain mug. The dark music pulsed through the quiet house, low drums vibrating against polished floors, old chanting voices slipping through hidden speakers like ghosts humming in the dark.
He didn’t sip the coffee.
He just sat there, staring at the faint curls of steam rising into the still air. His black hair fell across his eyes, shadowing his expression. From the outside, he looked calm. Almost peaceful. But inside, his mind spun in circles.
They wanted him to help.
Again.
Always again.
His siblings. This world. That damn creature learning how to be human in the sewers. They wanted him to fight it, bind it, save their little playground from being devoured.
He let out a quiet, bitter laugh.
The sound echoed against the marble counters, slipping between the notes of the humming music. He raised the mug to his lips and took a slow sip. The bitterness spread across his tongue, grounding him in the silence.
For a moment, he closed his eyes.
Images flickered through his mind. Shadows of old battles. Old betrayals. His own voice screaming in defiance as chains bound him in burning light. The taste of ash. The scent of scorched wings. The silence of endless time alone in the outerverse, where not even death could find him.
He opened his eyes again. The steam from the coffee blurred his vision, and he blinked slowly until it cleared.
"Maybe I am selfish," he murmured to himself. "Maybe I just don’t care anymore."
The music shifted slightly, the drums fading into deep string vibrations. The air hummed with dark resonance, as if reality itself held its breath.
Lucifer set the mug down softly and rested his elbows on the counter, folding his hands together under his chin. He stared down at the black stone surface, his eyes unfocused.
Was he wrong?
Would helping them this time really change anything?
He scoffed quietly. No. It wouldn’t. They would save this world, seal that creature away, and then what? Another enemy. Another threat. Another reason to fight for something that never wanted him.
The silence in his chest burned sharper for a moment.
He closed his eyes again, letting his mind sink into that emptiness. For a moment, he imagined what it would feel like to just let it all go. To walk away. To never pick up his sword again. No Heaven. No Hell. No Father.
Just... nothing.
But the quiet didn’t last.
He felt it before he heard it.
A warmth. A weight in the air that pressed against his skin with comforting heaviness. Like sunlight against cold stone. Like the feeling of warm sand under bare feet after endless wandering.
His eyes snapped open.
He turned slowly in his seat, feeling his muscles tense without meaning to. The music faded into silence as his gaze landed on the figure standing in his kitchen doorway.
A young man stood there.
He looked no older than thirty. Loose dark hair fell in gentle waves around his face, framing sharp cheekbones and a strong, calm jawline. His skin was warm gold, glowing faintly under the morning light streaming through the windows. His lips were full and soft, curved in a gentle smile. And his eyes—
Lucifer felt his chest tighten.
They were dark brown, almost black, but endless. Calm and deep like still ocean water at midnight. Eyes that saw everything and judged nothing. There was kindness there. But beneath it... power. Power so vast it didn’t need to be spoken or shown. It just was.
He wore simple robes, white and loose, tied at the waist with a thin golden cord. Barefoot. The faintest glow surrounded him, like light slipping through clouds at dawn.
The perfect human.
Beautiful in a way that made Lucifer’s teeth ache with old jealousy.
The man smiled softly. "We have a lot to talk about, son."
Lucifer swallowed hard. His hands curled into fists against the countertop, nails digging into his palm until he felt skin break.
The man stepped into the kitchen, his movements silent and unhurried. His gaze drifted across the marble floors, the silent coffee machine, the empty mug clutched in Lucifer’s shaking hand.
Then he looked back at Lucifer, and the smile deepened.
"But first," he said gently, "we have some catching up to do."
Lucifer stared at him, his black eyes empty, dark hair falling across his face like shadows dripping from cracked stone.
His lips parted slightly.
"Bloody hell," he whispered.
The words slipped out of him like cold smoke curling from dying embers. His voice was quiet. Flat. Utterly devoid of surprise, as if part of him had always known this was coming.
The man’s smile didn’t fade. His eyes sparkled with warmth as he stepped closer, bare feet brushing against the polished wood with silent grace.
And Lucifer just sat there, hands clenched around his mug, staring into the face of the one being he’d spent eternity trying to forget.
The music didn’t start again.
The room stayed silent.
And outside, the city moved on in blissful ignorance, unaware that its fate now balanced on a silent moment between Father and Son.
Elsewhere
The creature walked down the street, its stolen body moving with quiet grace. Each step grew steadier as it learned how muscles stretched and bones shifted under skin. The morning sun burned against its new eyes, so it slipped into a dark alley, weaving between dumpsters and dripping pipes until it found what it needed.
A bar.
The neon sign above the door buzzed faintly in the dim alley light. RED MOON, it read in flickering letters. The smell of stale beer and old sweat curled out from the cracked doorway. Music pulsed low from inside, a heavy bass that rattled the broken glass wedged into the concrete outside.
The creature paused for a moment, tilting its head as it listened to the music. It felt each beat vibrate through its chest. A strange sensation. Almost... grounding.
It stepped forward and pushed the door open.
Warm, stale air washed over its face. Inside, bodies slumped over tables. Cigarette smoke curled in thin ribbons toward the ceiling fans. A bartender wiped glasses with slow, bored movements.
The creature walked in silently, brown eyes scanning the dark room with calm curiosity.
Learning.
Adapting.
It smiled faintly and moved to the bar.