Devil Slave (Satan system) Chapter 1373: Father Black’s Prayer

Earth – Aftermath of the Fallen visited.

The world was drowning in grief. This much was expected. When the fallen had come, they broke through the cosmic wall protecting earth from beings of superior power.

That had caused earthquakes. And to top it up, their aura in the earth alone had burnt the souls of mortals.

And then there was the battles. Lucky the Arcane domains had cone up when they did, or emese, more lives would have been lost.

All across battlefields and ruined cities, the living walked among the dead. Families, soldiers, priests, and healers moved in silence or sobs, draping white bed sheets over the fallen. Blood still stained the stones beneath their knees. Mothers clutched lifeless hands; warriors stood frozen, fists trembling at their sides. The air tasted like smoke, iron, and sorrow.

Even gods wept.

High above them, Odin floated alone in the sky—one eye fixed on the mourning world below. His spear hung by his side, but his shoulders were heavy, tense. The wind carried screams and prayers to him, and his jaw clenched.

Perseus flew up beside him. The young hero looked scorched from battle—hovered in silence for a moment. He looked at Odin, only to sigh and shake his head in disappointment. Without saying a word, Perseus descended to help the survivors below.

Moments later, Demeter rose into the air to meet Odin. Her green robes fluttered softly; sorrow and anger warred in her emerald eyes.

Odin exhaled, tired. "If you have something to say... just say it."

Demeter did not hesitate. "The High Gods convened. Because of the losses today—losses caused by your reckless command of our order—you are hereby stripped of all authority over our forces."

Odin’s brow lifted slightly. His one eye flickered with surprise.

Then he looked back down... at the bodies, at the weeping, at the broken spears and shattered shields. His voice was quiet, almost numb.

"...I understand."

Without another word, he turned and flew away.

None noticed the faint glow that flickered across his remaining eye—subtle, unnatural, like the first breath of something awakening inside him.

---

Council of Earth’s Forces.

Deep within the suspended chamber—an ancient meeting hall floating above the endless black void—those of strength had gathered once more. The stone table suspended was engraved with the names of gods that judt died. the silence heavy, the air cold.

But this time, a new presence sat among them.

King Alexander. The one with a crown that seemed to hover, never to touch his head.

His long crimson hair spilled like flames around his shoulders. He did not sit like a king... but like a warlord, a barbarian. His chair leaned back casually, boots planted mid-air as though resting on an invisible table. His eyes—sharp, predatory—watched the others with amusement.

And the void beneath the council room seemed to stir... as if awaiting decisions that could break the world.

Father Black sat at the head of the void-hanging council table.

He was bare-chested—his skin pale, but streaked with blood and wrapped in fresh white bandages. Thick claw marks raked diagonally across his torso, still seeping faintly. Demeter, who now stood behind him, was quietly tying the final knot of cloth across his ribs. These wounds were trophies from the two Fallen Angels he had faced—and defeated.

To his right sat Prophet Kanada, serene as always, her dark eyes unreadable beneath the faint silver of her veil that hid her faceless face.

To his left sat Athena, composed, armored, untouched by harm.

Neither woman bore even a scratch. Well, with the special abilities both women had, it was no surprise.

Their bet had seen that Father bkack was now recognised as head. The bet had been simple:

Whoever kills the most Fallen Angels... commands the Earth forces.

Father Black had slain two... alone.

Athena killed one.

And the final two had been brought down only when Athena, Prophet Kanada, and Alexander fought together.

Of course, there was the one Tomato fought, but she was not in the bet in the first place.

In fact, she was not one for ruling. Even now, she was indulging on beast meat.

How that devil woman could eat at such a time was beyond him.

Thus—without argument, without protest—Father Black was now the undisputed head of Earth’s armies.

Even Athena accepted it without a word.

Others filled the chamber too—Crusher leaning against a column with arms crossed, Perseus bandaged but upright, Insect B floating faintly in a corner. Odin’s chair remained empty.

He was no longer allowed here.

Father Black turned his head to the red-haired warrior lounging across the table.

"How ready do you think we are?" he asked king Alexander.

Kanada had already introduced this warrior. Besides, Alexander had boasted of meeting Lenny as well.

Alexander stretched lazily, cracking his neck before answering. "If what that lunatic Solomon told me is true and what I have seen... then you’re not even remotely ready."

Silence.

Father Black exhaled slowly, gaze darkening. He knew it. Six Fallen Angels had butchered thousands. If Lucifer himself descended...

They were doomed.

Alexander chuckled.

"You’re all thinking wrong," he said, leaning forward. "You focus on the size of your army. The sharpness of your weapons. But that’s not what wins against monsters like them."

He raised a finger.

"In truth, it’s not the weakest soldier that defines you."

A faint smile. His eyes glinted like embers.

"It’s your strongest one. There is a reason just the mention of your king commands reapect, and yet, he is one man."

With a flick of his hand, a vial materialized on the table—its glass swirling with pale golden liquid. A soft, ethereal aura spilled from it, filling the chamber like morning sunlight. For a moment, everyone felt... lighter. Stronger. As though their souls took a breath.

Crusher frowned. "What is that?"

Alexander leaned back, smirking.

"The Milk of Heaven. A gift from King Solomon... and the residents of the False Heaven."

Murmurs.

By now, those here knew of the false Heaven.

"It’s extremely rare. One vial takes a thousand years to make. And I have only ten." His eyes drifted across the gathered gods, demigods, heroes of the lenny family. "So choose wisely."

"Who," he said softly, "shall be your champions?"

---

Later that Night – The Farewell of the Fallen

The sky was dark, but filled with lights.

Thousands of candles floated upward like stars being returned to the heavens. Music drifted through the air—soft, mournful, sacred. People stood in silence as the names of the dead were spoken. Even the elite—gods, demigods, warriors—stood with heads bowed.

Father Black stepped down from the podium, robes trailing, his chest still bandaged beneath them.

As he passed Prophet Kanada, their eyes met for a heartbeat.

A whisper brushed into her mind—his voice, private and sincere.

"Thank you. I know... much of what we saved today was because of you. And the Forbidden Treasure in your possession. If I’m not mistaken... it’s also the reason the late King Alexander stands here now, isn’t it?"

Kanada said nothing.

She only smiled slightly... then walked away into the lantern light.

Father Black looked up at the sky.

At the rising lights. At the stars.

His sigh was heavy.

Lucifer was coming.

These deaths... were nothing. A mere beginning.

Softly, barely a whisper, he spoke to the wind.

"Lenny... where are you? Your family needs you."