CHAPTER 68: CH 68: THE START - PART 4

Lucian tapped his fingers lightly against the desk, his sharp gaze shifting toward the door as Berry entered first, followed closely by Mira and Jamie. T

hey moved quickly at his summons, though their steps slowed the moment they spotted the figure reclining casually on the chair in the corner of the office.

Belphegor.

Even after ten years of uneasy alliance, the demon king’s presence still made the air feel heavier, as though shadows clung to him no matter how brightly the room was lit.

Berry’s eyes narrowed. His hand instinctively brushed the hilt of his weapon before he forced it away.

Mira openly scowled, though she bit back her words for Lucian’s sake. Jamie, the youngest of the three, shifted nervously, refusing to look directly at the demon.

It was clear in the tension of their shoulders and the stiffness of their movements—they did not trust him.

The only reason Belphegor still drew breath within the village was because of Lucian. And for Lucian, they would restrain themselves.

Berry broke the silence first, his voice steady but edged.

"You called us here, my lord. What is the mission?"

Lucian stood, his expression calm as ever. "This mission will not be easy. It’s a rescue."

Berry inclined his head, not pressing further. His loyalty was absolute; if Lucian gave an order, he would follow it without question.

Mira, however, wasn’t nearly as composed. Her brows furrowed, and her voice came out sharper than intended.

"Rescue? Who exactly are we saving? Don’t tell me... it’s a girl. Where did you even meet someone like that, Lucian?"

Before Lucian could answer, Belphegor let out a low chuckle, his golden eyes gleaming with amusement.

"You really don’t have to worry, little jealous one. The guest is a man, not a woman. So you can drop the pout."

Mira’s face flushed instantly.

"I’m not jealous!"

She snapped, looking away, though her shoulders loosened with barely concealed relief.

Belphegor smirked knowingly, clearly entertained.

On the side, Luna, who had just arrived silently, let out a faint sigh of relief herself, though she hid it better than Mira. Her calm facade barely wavered, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of ease.

Lucian, however, didn’t address their reactions. He kept his tone neutral, businesslike.

"Settle yourselves. You’ll need to be ready to leave within the hour. This mission cannot wait."

The three exchanged glances before bowing their heads in acknowledgement.

One by one, they left the room to prepare, though Mira threw Belphegor one last suspicious glare on her way out.

Once the door closed behind them, the room quieted again.

Belphegor tilted his head, his smile curling wider as his gaze fixed on Lucian.

"So... tell me, Lucian. What’s the real plan here? You and I both know this ’guest’ isn’t just any man. He’s the outsider—the so-called hero. How exactly do you plan on getting him to your side?"

Lucian didn’t hesitate. His eyes were calm, calculating, his voice steady as though he had already gone over this countless times in his head.

"It’s simple. When a chick hatches, the first thing it sees, it accepts as its parent. If I am the first to save him, the first to stand before him... then naturally, he will imprint on me. His trust, his loyalty, his direction—they will all be mine to guide. In doing so, I will control the flow of events and ensure fate bends to the path I choose."

Belphegor’s smile faltered. The amusement in his eyes dimmed, replaced by something heavier. He stared at Lucian, his expression unreadable.

"You would dare to take the ’hero,’ the one meant to shatter destiny itself... and twist him into your pawn?"

Lucian’s lips curved faintly, though his eyes remained cold.

"Not a pawn. An ally. Whatever is necessary. But most importantly... he will not fall into the hands of the other demon kings. That much, I will ensure."

For a moment, silence hung between them. Then Belphegor’s smile returned, thinner this time, lacking its earlier warmth.

"You tread on dangerous ground, boy. Don’t forget our agreement. Your games with fate must not overshadow my purpose. Once your role is done—"

"—I haven’t forgotten."

Lucian interrupted, his tone sharp but unwavering. He met the demon’s gaze without flinching.

"Once my goal is fulfilled, I will see to it that your purpose is completed as well. You wish to destroy fate, Belphegor. I will give you that chance. But until then... you will stand beside me, as agreed."

Belphegor’s golden eyes lingered on Lucian for a long moment. Then, finally, he let out a long sigh, leaning back against the chair with a tired grin.

"You never change. Ten years, and still you never once flinch. Very well. I’ll play your little game. But remember, Lucian... even the cleverest of men can be swallowed whole if they dare to bind themselves too tightly to destiny’s thread."

Lucian didn’t respond. He returned to his desk, calmly sorting through the last of the documents, his mind already several steps ahead.

The preparations were complete. His people were ready. His enemies would not have the first move.

And soon, very soon... the so-called "hero" would awaken.

And when he did, the first face he would see—the first voice he would hear—would not be of gods, or demons, or fate itself.

It would be Lucian’s.

______

In the vast expanse of endless white, a young man slowly opened his eyes. His breathing was ragged, each inhale scraping against his throat as if it were lined with blades.

The taste of blood clung stubbornly to his tongue, and his body screamed with pain—wounds crisscrossed his frame, each one a cruel reminder of the battle he had barely survived.

He groaned and tried to move, but even the smallest twitch of his fingers felt unbearable.

"Where...?"

His voice came out hoarse, uncertain. This wasn’t the battlefield he remembered. There was no smoke, no shattered earth, no corpses.

Only an empty, colorless void stretching endlessly in every direction.

A shiver ran down his spine. Something was wrong.

Before he could even wonder how he had gotten here, a pressure settled around him—cold, heavy, suffocating.

His instincts screamed at him, the same instincts that had carried him through countless fights. He wasn’t alone.

Figures emerged from the whiteness, shadows with vague forms, their outlines distorting as though reality itself rejected them.

Their eyes glowed faintly, fixed on him with open malice.

The young man clenched his teeth, forcing his battered body to rise. These presences... they were not friendly.