Devil Slave (Satan system) Chapter 1390: Lucifer’s conditions

Lucifer’s attention remained fixed on Gabriel, the golden hue of his eyes shifting from idle amusement to a sharp, evaluating intensity. It was the look of a predator identifying an old comrade in the wilderness—searching and strangely affectionate.

Tilting his head so the starlight danced across his plumage, he sent a silent query through their shared mental link.

*Is it your purpose now to pledge your fealty to me, brother?*

Standing before the throne, Gabriel remained as still as a statue, his features an unreadable mask of cold marble.

However, within the secluded realm of their consciousness, his reply was both immediate and resolute.

*Yes. Yes, I do.*

A deep, velvety laugh vibrated through Lucifer’s chest. It was faint enough that Seraphina only caught the physical sound without understanding the source, but in the telepathic bridge between the brothers, the tone was warm and brimming with genuine pleasure.

*Of course.*

Lucifer shifted forward, bracing his elbows on his knees while his wings unfurled in a slow, indulgent stretch. His next thought was laced with a hint of playful cruelty.

*If that is so... then provide a testament of your loyalty.*

This request was anticipated. For a new alliance to take root, the old ties had to be severed, and the evidence of such a break had to be displayed.

Eons ago, Gabriel had been among the ranks that enforced the divine sentence upon Lucifer.

He had rejected him then.

Furthermore, those who stood behind Lucifer required a form of guarantee if Gabriel intended to join their cause.

To those who had endured millennia of suffering for their devotion to Lucifer, a mere verbal oath was insufficient.

Gabriel’s intense stare didn't flinch, but he countered with an immediate question.

*What is it you desire?*

A slow, malicious grin spread across Lucifer’s face.

*I will accept Michael’s holy tool. The very blade that tore my original wings from my back. Deliver it to me, and I shall greet you with open arms.*

White fire flared within Gabriel’s eyes for a fleeting second—the solitary outward manifestation of his internal turmoil. Though his mental voice stayed calm, it was now burdened by the weight of an impossible task.

*That sword is bound to Michael as inextricably as your own holy tool is tied to you. Such a feat would be... difficult.*

Lucifer laughed again, a softer and more intimate sound this time.

*For any other angel, brother, it would be impossible. But I am well aware of your capabilities. You will find a way to make it simple.*

He lingered on the thought, allowing the implication to sink in.

*After all... the horn at your hip possesses the power to sever any connection. It only requires the blood of the target. Is that not how you stripped away my access to Heaven all those centuries ago?*

A faint crease appeared on Gabriel’s forehead—a shadow of a frown that vanished as quickly as it came. His grip tightened almost imperceptibly on the pale gold trumpet at his side. The memory was a heavy burden between them: Gabriel’s hand, Gabriel’s instrument, sounding the final note that sealed Lucifer’s exile.

His next thought was hushed, carrying a trace of weariness.

*Is there... something else?*

Lucifer leaned back, resuming a posture of regal nonchalance, though his gaze never strayed from Gabriel.

He gave a slow, calculated nod.

*If that proves too much for you... then bring me... the head of any archangel.*

The surrounding void seemed to freeze.

Gabriel remained motionless, not even blinking. The gravity of the demands felt like chains forged from star-iron. Both paths led to ruin.

Each option was an act of heresy written in blood. The audacity was staggering.

Yet, after a long, tense silence...

Gabriel bowed his head slightly.

A single, solemn nod of agreement.

He accepted.

The void felt heavy after Gabriel’s departure, the blinding light of his exit fading back into the coldness of space.

Seraphina moved closer to the throne, her wings tucking tightly against her back. A cunning, almost mischievous smirk played on her lips as she looked at the empty space where the messenger had stood before turning to Lucifer.

“Poor big brother messenger,” she cooed, her voice dripping with artificial pity loud enough for the nearby guards to hear. “All that arrogance and holy fire... and he retreats with nothing but your mockery ringing in his ears.”

Her red eyes shone with triumph, as if she were the one who had chased Gabriel away.

Then, leaning in closer, her demeanor softened as she whispered in a velvet tone meant only for her lord.

“My lord... what truly occurred just now?”

Lucifer turned his head toward her, his golden eyes filled with lazy amusement.

“Oh,” he murmured, a small smile touching his lips. “You caught that?”

Seraphina gave a tiny, subtle nod, her eyes searching for answers in his expression.

Lucifer’s grin grew warmer and more secretive.

“I believe,” he said in a low, resonant voice, “that we have gained another piece on the board.”

He looked out toward the distant blue sphere of the Eighth Earth, his wings twitching with effortless grace.

“It makes the game... far more intriguing.”

Seraphina’s brow furrowed into a delicate frown as she considered his words.

“Do you require me to take action?” she inquired, her voice a mix of ambition and hesitation.

Lucifer raised a hand in a slow, dismissive gesture, his fingers moving like falling feathers.

“No, no,” he replied casually. “They are fine for the moment. Their status is set.”

His eyes returned to Earth, filled with sharp expectation.

“Let them wait... for the response from Earth.”

When Gabriel returned to the angelic assembly, Raphael, who was lounging atop his mount, turned toward him.

“I could hear your fury echoing all the way here. Tell me your celestial voice was enough to make him realize his mistakes.”

Raphael was clearly mocking Gabriel, who responded only with a scoff.

Gabriel walked past him, his mind racing with a thousand different thoughts.

Meanwhile, Michael cast a sidelong glance at Gabriel, his expression shifting slightly with irritation.

Gabriel stopped in front of him and offered a respectful bow. Although both held the rank of Archangel, Michael was the superior and the one in command.

“We may be forced to execute your brother this time,” Gabriel remarked.

“He has turned his back on the One Above All. He is no brother of mine.” Michael turned his back.

Gabriel could not see the sorrowful look on Michael’s face, just as Michael could not see the strange, calculating glint in Gabriel’s eyes.