Devil Slave (Satan system)-Chapter 1254: Bring The Treasures Forward

Commander Kael, his mind still turning over the massacre Tomato had unleashed and the discovery of his men, gave a curt nod to his men. "Load one of the corpses onto the lead truck. I want it back at the city for a full analysis," he ordered, his voice sharp and precise. "The rest of you, start mining whatever resources about the village. Check every nook and cranny—leave nothing useful behind. It is natural for settlements to form around a life source."

The soldiers moved swiftly, some hefting the bloodied remains of a villager onto the armored truck while others began unloading mining equipment. They spread out, examining the crude structures for anything valuable and scanning the area for natural resources.

Unbeknownst to them, in the shadows of the village’s far corner, something stirred. Thin, black tendrils writhed, snaking out from a hidden crevice like sentient vines. They moved with purpose, slithering along the ground before withdrawing into the darkness, as though aware they might be spotted.

Tomato’s head snapped sharply in the direction of the movement. Her golden, predatory eyes narrowed, scanning the corner where she thought she’d seen something. But there was nothing there. The shadows remained still, the eerie silence of the plane broken only by the distant sounds of Kael’s men working.

With a shrug, Tomato turned her attention elsewhere. Her gaze fell upon the armored truck that had been loaded with the villager’s corpse. A playful grin spread across her face as she leapt onto its roof in a single fluid motion, landing with a thud that startled the soldiers inside.

Kael looked up from overseeing the mining efforts, his expression weary but resigned. "What now, Tomato?"

"I’ve helped you enough," Tomato said breezily, lying on her back atop the truck, her tail flicking lazily behind her. "I’m going back to Enel. He needs me more than you do."

Kael sighed, running a hand down his face. "Fine," he muttered, waving her off. "Do as you like."

With a triumphant chuckle, Tomato made herself comfortable atop the truck as it rumbled to life, heading back toward the city. Kael watched her go, shaking his head. "What a handful," he muttered under his breath.

As the truck disappeared into the horizon, Kael turned back to the task at hand, barking orders at his men. But in the back of his mind, he couldn’t shake the unease that had settled in his gut.

In another plane of existence—a primary plane of incredible significance, once used as a prison for the fallen angels—events of profound consequence were unfolding. This plane, vast and imposing, radiated with a blinding light that seemed to shimmer with divine power, though it held no sanctity. Its skies were a perpetual dance of golden and silver hues, streaked with the celestial flames of suns orbiting impossibly close. Towering spires of crystalline structures jutted from the ground like jagged beacons, reflecting the radiant glow of the plane in every direction. Yet, for all its splendor, this place was shrouded in an unholy presence.

Fallen angels, their broad white wings adorned with jagged edges and tainted with faint streaks of gray, stood as the plane’s eternal guardians. Their beauty was undeniable, their forms ethereal and luminous, but there was no mistaking the vile aura that clung to them like a shadow. These were not beings of salvation but of corruption, their radiant facades masking a darkness that rivaled even the depths of hell.

Lady Sarkina, one of the most revered among them, glided into view. Her wings, vast and resplendent, fanned out behind her as she descended gracefully into the heart of this celestial prison. She moved with the commanding presence of one who had witnessed millennia pass like fleeting seconds. Her silvery armor barely covering her lush figure gleamed as though it had been forged from the stars themselves, and her emerald eyes burned with determination.

She entered the core of the plane, a sanctum shielded from all but the most trusted of the fallen. The core was unlike anything mortal eyes could ever witness. A swirling vortex of molten gold and flowing light consumed the space, its radiance interwoven with black, serpentine tendrils of raw energy. Suspended at the center of this chaotic fusion was a figure—a being both beautiful and grotesque in equal measure.

It was Lucifer Morningstar.

The great fallen angel, who once stood as the brightest of the heavenly host, now bore the scars of his cataclysmic fall and his most recent battle. Half of his body was entirely gone, obliterated by Lenny’s attack a hundred years ago, and what remained was grotesquely fused with the molten core of the plane.

Hundreds of golden tendrils extended from the swirling light into what was left of his body, embedding themselves in the cracked flesh and exposed sinews of his torso.

His wings, once flawless and magnificent, hung in a shattered ruin. The feathers were torn and scorched, their broken fragments dangling pathetically from the remaining joints. Yet even in this state, there was a terrifying majesty about him. His skin shimmered with a metallic luster, and his fractured visage still radiated an allure that no mortal or celestial could ignore.

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At the center of his chest, where his heart was laid bare, a golden light pulsed in steady rhythm.

His heart, an organ of otherworldly perfection, emitted a celestial hymn—a chorus of harmonies so pure and soothing that it defied comprehension. The sound filled the core of the plane, a melody of such profound beauty that it could bring even the most hardened soul to tears. Yet, beneath the splendor of that music, there was an undertone of malice—a dark, sinister resonance that hinted at his true nature.

Lady Sarkina approached, her steps measured and reverent. When she reached him, she fell to her knees, bowing her head deeply as her long, golden hair cascaded over her shoulders. "My lord," she said, her voice trembling with both awe and fear.

The Morningstar’s single remaining eye opened, glowing with a golden light that pierced through the brilliance of the room. His lips, pale and cracked, curled into a faint smile that was both inviting and menacing.

"Sarkina," he said, his voice a haunting melody of power and pain. "You have returned."

"My lord," Sarkina replied, lifting her head slightly but keeping her gaze averted. "The task you set before us is complete. The treasures you sought are now in our possession, and the path to your full restoration is within reach."

Lucifer’s smile deepened, though the motion sent a ripple of pain through his broken form.

The tendrils connecting him to the molten core twitched, releasing sparks of golden light. "Good," he whispered, his voice tinged with both satisfaction and weariness. "Each step brings me closer to reclaiming what was lost."

For a moment, silence filled the core, broken only by the ethereal hymns of his heart. Sarkina dared to glance up, her emerald eyes taking in the grotesque yet hypnotic figure before her. Lucifer, the beautiful abomination, was a paradox in every sense—majestic and monstrous, divine and profane.

"My lord," Sarkina ventured cautiously, "the wounds inflicted upon you... will they ever heal? i mean even with the..." she held her tongue.

Lucifer, now carrying Lenny’s former face gave a slight smile, "bring the treasures forward..."