Devil Slave (Satan system) Chapter 1388: Gabriel Wants To Talk

Father Black began to move once more.

He traversed the room and triggered a series of hidden mechanisms set into the stone. Metal plates shifted and ancient runes rearranged themselves. With a slick, fluid sound, a polished black container slid out from the wall and clicked open.

A syringe lay nestled inside.

The device was massive, far exceeding the size of any medical tool intended for a human body. Its barrel was adorned with intricate infernal circuitry, containing a swirling golden liquid. The substance was thick and radiant, resembling concentrated sunlight blended with liquified mana.

Athena narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

"What is that?"

Father Black kept his focus entirely on the syringe as he spoke.

"A uniquely engineered adrenaline," he answered with a calm demeanor. "If injected into a mortal man, it would grant him the power to wage war for a full month without the need for food, sleep, or rest."

He stopped for a moment.

"Once that time passes... the body suffers total collapse. Death is certain."

Athena’s posture went rigid.

"For entities of our status," he went on, "it compels the heart to exceed its biological constraints. More magic. Higher output. Greater will. It acts as a final emergency key—reserved for the moments where survival requires a heavy price."

Athena’s eyes darted toward the containment capsule.

"But her... Nikky is only human."

Father Black gave a single, solemn nod.

"That is the reason," he whispered, "that if this fails... she will never open her eyes again."

A heavy silence gripped the chamber.

"And that," he remarked while raising the needle, "is why there is only one chance to use it."

He approached the capsule.

With no sign of doubt, he pressed the needle against Nikky’s throat and plunged the plunger.

The golden essence flooded into her circulatory system.

Her spine arched with sudden violence.

Her eyes snapped open as she began to convulse, coughing with a desperate intensity—once, twice—repeatedly, as if her body were trying to expel her very lungs. A thick fluid leaked from her lips while her ribs heaved in frantic, rhythmic spasms.

Athena tensed up, prepared to step in.

Then—slowly—the violent coughing began to subside.

Nikky inhaled sharply, sucking in air like a drowning victim who had finally reached the surface.

Her gaze darted about in a frenzy.

She was lost in confusion and disorientation.

Half a century of lost time seemed to weigh down on her very first breath.

However, despite the trauma, her natural mental sharpness had not faded.

Her eyes scanned the environment with incredible speed, taking in the glowing runes, the lurking beasts, and the stone chamber... until her focus finally locked onto Father Black.

She attempted to form words.

Instead, more of the fluid escaped her mouth.

Father Black rested a stabilizing hand on her shoulder.

"I know," he spoke softly. "I understand what you are trying to say."

He stayed still until her breathing became more rhythmic.

"I have good news," he said, "and I have bad news."

She stared at him, her eyes unblinking.

"But before that," he stated, standing tall as his voice gained a heavy, formal authority, "in my capacity as Regent of the Lenny Royal Family on Earth... and as a member of the Hell Royal Family..."

He looked her straight in the eyes.

"I put this question to you: will you accept the invitation to join the Hell Royal Family?"

Nikky went still.

Visible shock washed over her features.

A flicker of anxiety crossed her expression—fear, doubt, and the crushing weight of a permanent choice.

Noticing her hesitation, Father Black leaned in and added in a gentler tone:

"Do not fear. Lenny remains our king."

Her eyes lit up instantly.

She was filled with relief and newfound hope.

With a massive surge of effort, a single word forced its way past her vocal cords.

"...Yes."

The sound was little more than a whisper.

It was all that was needed.

Father Black placed his palm firmly against her shoulder.

The recently manifested Hell Family sigil on his own chest flared to life.

The emblem glowed with a searing red heat.

Agony pierced through him as he functioned as a living bridge—streaks of infernal energy tore through his frame and poured into Nikky’s body.

A scream tore from her throat.

The sigil seared itself into her skin, the raw power altering her blood, her soul, and her very fate in one violent moment.

The entire chamber trembled.

The hounds let out a chorus of howls.

And thus, Hell greeted its newest member of royalty.

Meanwhile, far beyond the reach of human perception, their terrors, or their desperate prayers,

Lucifer Morningstar sat relaxed upon his golden throne amidst the freezing vacuum of space.

With one leg draped over the side, his posture was the definition of arrogance, treating the destiny of the worlds below as simple amusement. His six pairs of wings moved slowly behind him, their feathers shimmering like blades of pure light against the darkness of the void.

Seraphina stood beside him with her hands clasped, her eyes fixed on the distant blue speck of the Eighth Earth.

To beings of their power, a single human week was irrelevant.

A mere blink.

A short breath.

A brief silence between thoughts. They were capable of waiting much longer, but for now, the objective was to ensure the human Regent had no time for contemplation while securing his prize before the arrival of heaven.

Seraphina leaned in, her voice a low whisper so as not to disturb his peace.

"Do you believe the Regent of Earth will truly sign the contract, my lord?"

Lucifer let out a soft, melodic chuckle that carried a hint of dangerous mirth.

"Belief is unnecessary," he answered with a lazy drawl. "There is no other path for him to take."

His eyes remained locked onto Earth as he spoke, his pupils glowing softly, as if he were already witnessing its destruction.

In that instant, a shadow moved across the stars.

A Fallen Angel descended with speed and knelt before the throne, head bowed in submission and wings folded with military precision.

"My lord," the angel reported steadily. "Archangel Gabriel has arrived... and requests an audience."

Lucifer’s grin widened.

That...

That was quite intriguing.

For two specific reasons.

First, Gabriel had not addressed him in hundreds of thousands of years. They were not friends, nor were they enemies who engaged in small talk. They represented opposing fundamental principles, and Gabriel was not the type to descend to dialogue without a grave reason.

Second, and of greater significance,

Gabriel had not used a mental transmission.

He had dispatched a physical messenger.

A formal envoy.

This alone signaled that the visit was not a personal whim, but an official declaration of Heaven’s will.

Lucifer’s fingers drummed once against the arm of his throne.

A spark of curiosity appeared in his gaze.

Gabriel never acted without a plan. He never spoke without a calculation. He never made a move unless every possible outcome had been scrutinized.

Slowly, Lucifer raised a hand and gave a dismissive wave.

"Grant him entry," he commanded. "I shall listen to what my dear brother’s mouthpiece has to say."

The Fallen Angel performed a deep bow and vanished into the darkness to carry out the order.

Seraphina’s brow furrowed slightly, sensing the change in the air.

Lucifer leaned back, his smile turning sharp and predatory.

"Very well then," he hummed.

"Let us discover what Heaven desires from me... this time."