Devil Slave (Satan system) Chapter 1389: Gabriel Talks with Lucifer

The vacuum of space rippled like a disturbed pond.

In the distance, a solitary speck of light ignited—intense, burning, and relentless. It expanded into Gabriel, who descended with a measured and deliberate grace.

His six wings were wreathed in white flames that offered no heat, only the cold sting of judgment. His silver armor, resembling flowing robes, absorbed all light and reflected nothing.

At his right side hung a slender, pale gold trumpet, silent but filled with an ominous weight.

This was his Holy Tool.

As the reigning administrator of the heavens, his duty was to serve as the link between two opposing powers.

He touched down ten paces from the throne, standing upon the empty void as if it were solid marble, and locked his gaze with Lucifer.

Lucifer remained reclined exactly as he had been—one leg draped carelessly over the armrest, his posture relaxed and arrogant, with wings half-extended in a casual show of power. He made no move to stand. He didn't even sit up straight. A small, mocking smile graced his lips as he observed his guest.

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed slightly, marking the only flaw in his otherwise perfect composure.

“You sit upon a throne,” Gabriel declared, his voice cutting through the void with a cold clarity that reached every fallen sentry in the distance. “You, who were cast down, dare to receive Heaven’s Herald as though you still held dominion.”

Lucifer’s grin grew wider, lazy and unconcerned. He raised a hand in a slow, taunting wave. “Come on now brother. I am called the sin of pride for a reason.”

The flames on Gabriel’s wings flared higher in response.

“I am here with heaven's decree... Give up the Eighth Earth, Lucifer Morningstar. Withdraw your hand from its fate. Return to the punishment you earned—back to the chains of Hell. Refuse, and Heaven will descend in full array. We will sever those new wings you have so proudly regrown. And this time...” His voice sank, heavy with iron resolve. “We will strip you of immortality itself. You will be made mortal. Flesh that bleeds. A heart that stops. An end.”

The ultimatum vibrated through the void, sharp and final.

Hearing this, the fallen angels felt a surge of rage in their hearts.

To them, after all, Lucifer was their immortal king.

Standing beside the throne, Seraphina grew rigid. Her wings snapped open, feathers bristling like sharpened blades. Holy light flickered at her fingertips as her body coiled, ready to strike. A thirst for battle burned in her eyes.

Gabriel shifted his head only slightly toward her. He gave her a single sweep of his gaze—cold, dismissive, and full of pity.

A fool, his look suggested. Nothing more.

Seraphina’s lips pulled back in a silent snarl, but Lucifer raised two fingers from the armrest. It was a subtle, wordless command.

She became still, though the tension in her frame remained.

Yet beneath the thunderous spoken words, something else was moving.

It went unseen by the others. Then again, if they had noticed, its intent would have failed.

And so it occurred; silent, private, and hidden from every ear except one.

A strand of thought brushed against Lucifer’s mind, unmistakably Gabriel’s voice, now softened and devoid of ceremony.

*Since you left, brother Michael has ruled Heaven in your absence. Without you to challenge him... it has become a different kind of hell.*

Lucifer’s eyes sparkled. His lips did not move, but his response glided back through the same mental corridor, dripping with dry amusement.

*Are you saying you miss me, Gabriel?*

Gabriel’s expression remained like stone. Not a single flicker. But deep within his eyes, something ancient stirred—perhaps regret, or a tired admission.

*I regret,* he transmitted, *that I did not stand with you that day. That I did not challenge the decree and follow you into the void. How do i say this? Heaven is a really boring place. The only good thing was the death of the mortal that brought message of your attempting conquest, allowing one to look forward to seeing you. But it has been many many years. Longing is a painful thing uou know.*

There was a pause. Gabriel’s eyes scanned the surroundings, clearly searching for a specific individual. He failed to find the person.

A seed of worry began to grow within him.

Then, even more quietly, he inquired:

*How fares our brother Uriel? I do not see him in your entourage*

Lucifer’s indolent posture shifted—just a fraction. He lowered his leg from the armrest, placing both feet firmly on the ground. His wings folded more tightly against his back. The smile thinned into something almost soft.

*Dead,* he replied silently. *Ended by a hand from Earth. Their... founding dead king.*

He lifted a single finger, pointing casually toward the distant blue planet suspended in the dark.

Gabriel’s face did not twitch. The flawless mask remained. But Lucifer saw it anyway.

A brief, instinctive flicker deep within those burning eyes. An old wound reopening. Raw, wordless grief.

Gabriel’s thoughts returned, quieter than before.

*Since you fell... the One Above All has been absent.

Silent.

Gone from the throne. In truth, it is Michael who rules now. Michael, who has outlawed music itself in Heaven, because every note reminds him of you. Sometimes, it almost seemedlike he missed you too*

Lucifer tilted his head back, letting out a low, genuine laugh. It started softly before becoming richer, echoing through the void like rolling thunder. His eyes shone with a wicked joy.

“Oh, really,” he murmured aloud this time, his voice thick with mockery, though only Gabriel could grasp the deeper meaning.

He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, observing Gabriel with blatant curiosity.

The Herald of Heaven stood perfectly still, his trumpet at his side, his face appearing as if carved from eternal stone.

But in the silence shared between them, something older than kingdoms remained—unspoken, unresolved, and aching.

In reality, it was obvious even to the blind that Gabriel had a specific goal. However, angels were beings possessed of a narrow perspective. Even Michael was unaware of what his brother was plotting.

Then again, being angels did not mean they lacked individuality.

While they were fashioned to love and serve, they still possessed the choice of where to direct that devotion.

(Author’s note: I’m writing a time loops story. Please check it out.)