Devil Slave (Satan system) Chapter 1385: The King lives!

The world erupted in chaos when Father Black made his return to Earth.

Thunderous cheering echoed across every continent.

Holograms and banners illuminated cities everywhere.

Gods laughed without restraint, mortals wept with relief, and temple bells that had been silent for centuries finally began to toll.

The Eighth Earth—which had been on the brink of being wiped out by Heaven—suddenly felt a surge of life again.

Strangers embraced one another in the streets.

Children sprinted through neighborhoods that had expected fire to rain down from the heavens.

Songs were performed, celebrating not just a win, but survival.

They chanted his name.

They praised him as the hero who had stood his ground against every angel.

But the man himself, Father Black, offered no wave to the crowds.

He didn't even crack a smile.

Instead, he walked past the masses with a singular focus.

Perseus was the first to catch up, his eyes gleaming and his adrenaline still surging.

Demeter was right behind him, her usual stern look softened by a sense of relief.

"Father—" Perseus started to say.

"I need to be alone," Father Black interrupted sharply.

His tone was not cruel, but it was absolute.

They paused, locking eyes with one another; they understood.

They had, after all, known this veteran of war for a very long time.

Without staying for a response, Father Black entered his private quarters and locked the doors tight.

The second the bolt slid into place—

His strength vanished.

Father Black fell to his knees, his palms hitting the floor with a heavy thud.

"Oh shit," he muttered under his breath.

Then, his voice cracking with more volume,

"Oh ... we are fucked."

His breathing became shallow and rapid.

His hands wouldn't stop shaking.

He stared at the ground as if he expected the floor to open up and consume him.

He had taken a massive gamble. It hadn't been a wager of soldiers or land.

He had bet millions of lives against the patience of Heaven and the brilliance of Lucifer.

The bravery they thought they saw?

What kind of foolish audacity was that?

It was nothing but terror wearing a mask.

He hadn't retreated from space because of confidence or a desire to show up the angels—

—he did it because he couldn't let those angels catch the scent of his fear.

That terror had taken hold the very second Angel Michael dropped his blade during the initial strike.

He had stood right in front of it, after all. No one understood just how horrifying it truly was better than him.

Now, the whole world sang his praises.

And none of them realized how close he had come to being the first to blink.

He cursed quietly, pulling a hand down his face.

Then—

There was a knock at his door.

"Go away," he barked. "I’m busy."

~Silence.

Then came a calm, steady, and unshakable voice.

"It is Athena," she stated. "And I bring a message."

Father Black went still.

"...From whom?"

"Leviathan," Athena answered. "One of the Primordial Demons of Hell."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop.

Father Black knew of Leviathan. He was the Primordial Demon that Lucifer had imprisoned to serve as a warning to the other royal demon lineages.

He recalled that Lilith had set him free and formed a pact with him.

In truth, Leviathan had been one of Athena’s primary supporters when she moved to control the Cupbearers of hell.

He was also the final Primordial still in existence.

"...Let her in," Father Black commanded immediately.

He scrambled up, fixed his coat, wiped the perspiration from his forehead, and forced his breath to level out.

By the time the door swung open, he was behind his desk—looking calm and unreadable, his mask firmly restored.

Athena walked in.

She appeared as otherworldly as ever.

Crimson fire danced along her clothes, flickering in the air like a living flame, giving her the aura of a phoenix emerging from legend. Despite being blind, she moved with perfect precision—each step was graceful and intentional.

For a moment, even Father Black failed to remember she couldn't see.

"This isn't a good time," he remarked calmly.

Athena offered no reply.

Instead—

She reached into her garments and placed a red orb on the desk.

It hit the surface with a heavy, wet sound.

The orb's surface pulsed gently, with veins of dark red light swirling beneath its clear skin.

Father Black gazed at it. "What," he asked slowly, "is that?"

"The eye of a Hell Beast," Athena answered, her lips tightening.

Father Black let out a slow breath, keeping his voice steady. "I don't have time for gifts."

Athena shook her head as the crimson fire rippled around her like a living cloak. "This," she said, resting her hand on the orb, "is a gift you will want to receive."

Before he could argue, Athena pushed her fingers into the red surface.

Her magic flowed like a stream—ancient, divine, and incredibly precise.

For a second—

Nothing happened.

There was no light, no noise, and absolutely no reaction.

Only a silence so profound it felt as though the universe was holding its breath.

Then—

A voice spoke out.

It was cold and ancient.

Yet, it was filled with an undeniable warmth.

"Father Black... I have missed you."

The world stopped.

Father Black’s entire body went rigid, every muscle locking up at once.

That voice. He heard it even in his dreams.

Even after being buried under centuries of warfare, sorrow, and leadership—

He recognized it better than any other.

Tears immediately filled his eyes, blurring his sight.

"...Lenny?" he breathed, his voice cracking.

"Lenny... is that really you?"

The orb gave a single pulse.

A weary chuckle came from within.

"It’s been a long time, old man," the voice answered.

"Are you still holding onto those cigarettes for me?"

That was the breaking point.

Father Black collapsed emotionally.

He leaned forward, his hands clutching the desk's edge as raw, ugly, and unrestrained sobs broke free. Years of steel-like composure crumbled in a heartbeat. The burden of leadership, of impossible burdens, of standing alone against gods and angels—it all came crashing down.

Even Athena, standing by, could feel the depth of the old man’s pain.

"I thought you were gone," he sobbed. "I thought—"

His words failed him.

Then, with desperation, "Where are you? Why aren’t you here? Heaven is at our throats, and both angels and fallen angels are trying to consume the Earth!"

The orb’s glow began to fade.

When Lenny spoke again, his pace was slower.

He sounded older.

Tired in a way that only an eternity of existence could cause.

"I know," he said softly.

"But the time isn't right."

Father Black balled his hands into fists.

"Not time for what?"

"I need more time," Lenny answered.

"Can you provide that for me?"

Confusion began to pierce through his sorrow.

"What are you saying—"

Suddenly—

Pain.

A sharp, stinging sensation flared in Father Black’s chest.

He gasped, pulling his coat open.

There it was—

A sigil.

Glowing faintly against his flesh.

A family sigil.

"You already accepted the first one. I don’t require your permission to anoint you once more."

Father Black’s blood turned to ice.

"That’s impossible," he whispered.

Slowly, he looked toward the orb.

Then he looked at Athena.

She nodded, looking uneasy and disturbed.

"I felt it as well," she said softly.

She pulled back her own clothing. The identical sigil was glowing over her heart.

There was a time when she had rejected Lenny’s family sigil. In fact, that refusal was the source of her past suffering.

Only to eventually become the regent of hell, while Lenny had secretly been in control for thousands of years.

Specifically, since before the fall of humanity.

Father Black’s eyes grew wide as the realization hit him like a massive wave.

From the orb, Lenny spoke one last time.

Softly.

With certainty.

"Yes," he said.

"I am the King of Hell."

(Author’s note: did you wait too long for him?)