Lucifer walked across the mansion grounds with controlled, deliberate steps.
To anyone observing from a distance, he appeared calm and composed in the way noble heirs were trained to be before political storms.In truth, every breath was measured. He was consciously regulating the tempo of his stride, suppressing the faint tremor in his limbs before it could surface.
Tonight required precision.
He needed clarity before standing in front of a Monarch.
He needed steadiness before facing authority capable of erasing him without raising its voice.
The late afternoon light spilled across the carved arches of House Valcrest. Marble pillars cast long shadows over stone pathways etched with ancient sigils. Each crest embedded into the estate's architecture carried five centuries of survival, not peace, not prosperity, but endurance.
Five hundred years ago, the sky had split open.
It began as a spatial distortion above Earth, what early records called a "rift." It did not close.
Instead, it widened.
The fracture became a passage.
The passage connected to another world.
That world was Pandemonium.
The collision was not physical. Continents did not overlap. Instead, reality thinned. The barrier between worlds weakened, and through that weakness bled something foreign.
Dark mana.
It saturated the atmosphere like corrosion. Oceans grew unstable. Forests twisted. Animals and humans exposed to concentrated dark mana mutated, their minds deteriorating as their bodies adapted. Weapons forged of steel proved insufficient against creatures infused with abyssal energy.
Then the demons came.
They did not arrive as an army with banners. They spilled through the passage in waves, organized in hierarchy yet chaotic in movement. They slaughtered indiscriminately. Entire cities were reduced to ruins within months. Nations fell within decades.
Two centuries of attrition followed.
Historians later called it "The Age of Ruin ".
Human civilization did not collapse in a single event. It eroded.
Just as extinction seemed inevitable, something changed.
Across the sky, not where the first rift existed but elsewhere, another spatial phenomenon appeared.
Light did not descend as a beam or miracle.
Instead, a new kind of mana emerged within the world.
It was not dark.
It was not corrupted.
It was simply stable.
For the first time since the invasion, humanity could feel mana that did not poison.
At the time, people believed it to be divine intervention. Priests called it a blessing. Scholars called it an anomaly. Survivors simply called it hope.
What none of them understood then was that this mana not only descended from above.
It also awakened something from within.
Individuals began experiencing internal changes. A structure formed within their consciousness, a metaphysical space that scholars would later name the Soul Palace.
Inside that Soul Palace, something manifested.
An Origin.
The Origin was not an object. It was a fundamental truth of the self. It represented what a person was at their core, their conceptual identity, their natural authority, and their inherent direction of power.
Some Origins aligned with elements such as flame, shadow, storm, steel, and light.
Others aligned with concepts like execution, preservation, distortion, acceleration, and suppression.
Origin defined both function and ability.
It determined how power would express itself.
However, the Origin itself remained internal, rooted within the Soul Palace.
What appeared outwardly was something different.
An Origin Card.
The Origin Card manifested externally as a translucent construct, engraved with symbols unique to the individual. It acted as an interface between the internal Origin and the external world.
Through the Origin Card, a person could channel and manifest the power of their Origin into structured phenomena.
The Card did not grant power.
It revealed it.
The structure of strength became defined by three aspects.
Affinity represented compatibility, what forms of mana an individual could naturally resonate with.
Origin represented function and authority, how that power would be shaped.
The Soul Palace represented capacity, how much power could be refined, stored, and expanded.
Strength was not a singular number.
It was architecture.
Humanity did not reclaim dominance overnight. Scholars pooled resources to study the phenomenon. Mana circulation methods were developed. Combat techniques evolved. Weapons were reforged using mana-infused materials.
Gradually, the tide shifted.
Among countless awakened individuals, five rose beyond the rest.
They did not merely repel demons at city walls.
They challenged the source.
The original passage, the fracture that connected Earth to Pandemonium, was named the Abyss.
Those five fought at its threshold.
Together, they sealed it.
They were called the Five Sovereigns.
The title was symbolic.
A recognition of authority over power itself.
After sealing the Abyss, they vanished.
Not only the individuals.
Their bloodlines disappeared.
Records ceased.
No confirmed descendants.
No relics left behind.
Over time, they became semi-mythical figures, undoubted in existence yet unreachable in documentation.
Two centuries passed.
Humanity rebuilt.
Then the Abyss reopened.
Not the same fracture.
Not in the same place.
But connected.
This time, humanity was prepared.
Five different individuals rose to prominence.
Five different power structures.
Five different Origins refined to extraordinary heights.
They sealed the Abyss once more.
These five became the foundation of the current era.
They were granted the symbolic title of Sovereigns.
Officially, however, they were Monarchs.
A Monarch was the governing authority, the recognized leader of a continent.
A Sovereign was the acknowledgment of transcendent power.
Lucifer understood the distinction clearly.
Publicly, only five Monarchs exist in each generation.
That does not mean there are only five individuals capable of rivaling that power.
Abysscyra, the world rebuilt after the Abyss, was constructed upon truths rarely spoken aloud.
Lucifer had once written this history as narrative.
Now he walked inside its consequences.
Tonight, he would stand before one of its Monarchs without Rowan shielding him.
The thought pressed against his ribs.
He did not allow it to surface.
He kept walking aimlessly.
Servants noticed him.
And froze.
Conversations died mid-word.
One maid nearly collided with a pillar in her attempt to avoid his path.
Lucifer observed it all with mild detachment.
Still afraid.
Old Lucifer would have enjoyed that.
This version found it tedious.
He wandered longer than intended, allowing the rhythm of his steps to stabilize the pulse in his temples. His head still carried the dull ache of two lifetimes forced into alignment.
He noticed something else.
There were fewer servants.
Far fewer.
The corridors felt thinned.
He stopped at a junction.
"Hey."
A young maid stiffened as if struck by lightning.
He crooked a finger.
"Come here."
Two senior maids behind her bowed instantly and fled with suspicious speed.
Lucifer watched them go.
He had to admit that the survival instincts of Valcrest's maids are indeed top-notch.
The remaining girl approached like a condemned criminal. Her hands were shaking.
Lucifer leaned slightly forward.
"Relax."
She did not.
He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
"I'm in a surprisingly good mood today."
Her eyes widened in horror.
"That is worse."
He blinked.
Then laughed softly.
"I'm not going to eat you."
A pause.
He tilted his head.
"Probably."
She made a strangled noise.
Lucifer waved dismissively.
"Where are the others?"
"M-Most staff were relocated to the old mansion, Young Master."
"Relocated?" he echoed mildly.
"Yes. Because... because..."
She swallowed.
"The Monarch's visit is not only ceremonial."
Lucifer's expression did not change.
"I see."
"Once they enter the main hall, all non-essential personnel are dismissed."
He studied her.
"So you're essential?"
She looked ready to faint again.
He raised a hand.
"I'm joking."
Her knees nearly gave out in relief.
Lucifer turned away as if finished.
The girl exhaled audibly.
He reappeared behind her without warning.
"Boo."
She screamed so loudly a bird took flight outside the window. Tears welled instantly as she fled down the corridor.
Lucifer laughed genuinely.
It felt strange.
And necessary.
What he fails to notice that all of this was witnessed by a pair of crimson eyes.
Soon he spotted Amelia ahead.
"Amelia."
She did not slow.
"Amelia."
Still nothing.
Lucifer sighed and followed Amelia into the preparation chamber without announcing himself again.
She entered first, steady and unhurried, already focused on whatever final arrangements the mansion required before the Monarch's arrival.
He stepped in after her.
And closed the door.
The sound was soft. Measured. Deliberate.
She stopped walking.
Not instantly. Not dramatically. Just one step later than expected.
Then she turned.
Her gaze settled on him fully. Calm. Direct. Assessing.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then something shifted.
Her shoulders straightened slightly. Her fingers relaxed against her skirt, not in tension but in readiness. A fractional adjustment of balance, the kind that meant she had already calculated distance.
Lucifer stared at her.
Then sighed.
"Don't."
She blinked once. "Don't what?"
"Whatever interpretation just crossed your mind."
"I don't know what you are talking about." said Amelia quietly .
He folded his arms and looked at her .
"You look happy."
"I do not."
"You do," he insisted. "You always look like that when you get an excuse to teach me a lesson."
He continued, "You think I closed the door for something scandalous."
"I think," she said calmly, "that you have a history of questionable decisions."
"Relax. If I were about to do something inappropriate, I would at least look more committed."
Her gaze sharpened slightly.
"You should not joke about such things today."
"Why not? Today's already a disaster for me."
She did not deny that.
That annoyed him more than disagreement would have.
"You're enjoying this," he accused.
"I am not."
"You are."
She did not answer.
He took that as confirmation.
"You see? That face again."
She sighed softly, then looked at him more carefully.
"Why are you looking for me?" asked Amelia calmly. She did not look as guarded as before. At least, Lucifer thought so.
"What's with the mansion today? It feels slightly weird to me. Doing all this solely because of me seems like overkill, don't you think?"
"The Monarch's visit is not solely ceremonial," she said instead. "There are additional discussions as well. As for what they are, it has nothing to do with you. Once they enter, all remaining trusted staff will also be dismissed."
Lucifer nodded.
"I understand."
Which basically meant he should worry about his execution first rather than other nonsense.
Lucifer wholeheartedly agreed with that.
Her eyes dropped.
She frowned.
"What?" he asked.
"You are hopeless."
"That is not new."
"Your collar."
He glanced down.
The collar was slightly uneven. His tie was off-center by a finger's width. A small fold showed along the seam.
He shrugged.
"It reflects your incompetence."
She stepped closer without hesitation.
Lucifer stiffened instinctively, then relaxed.
"If this is where you strike, at least warn me."
"If I strike, you will not need warning."
She reached up and adjusted his collar with efficient, practiced motions. She straightened the fabric, pulled the tie into alignment, and smoothed the lapel flat with the edge of her palm.
He stood still.
Mostly because he had learned that resisting only prolonged the correction.
"At least," she said quietly while fixing the final crease, "do not make a fool of your family in front of a Sovereign."
Before he could respond,
The door opened.
Not abruptly.
Not gently.
Simply with authority.
The air shifted.
Red hair fell like controlled flame down a tall figure's back.
Crimson eyes assessed the room in a single sweep.
Her dress was black and gold, with a high neckline, a structured bodice, and sleeves tailored with military precision. Nothing revealing. Everything commanding.
Evelyn Valemount.
Lucifer's gaze dropped instinctively.
Paused.
Ah.
He lifted his eyes immediately.
Behind her stood Michael and Sebastian.
Michael carried Rowan's silhouette sharpened into a blade, lean build, medium-length black hair, eyes steady and unreadable.
Sebastian stood slightly taller than he before, shorter hair, composed posture, observing everything quietly as always.
Evelyn's gaze moved from Amelia,
To Lucifer,
To the closed door behind him.
Her eyes hardened.
"After humiliating a Monarch's daughter," she said coolly, "you still find time to isolate your maid?"
Lucifer blinked.
Once.
Twice.
He opened his mouth.
Closed it.
He glanced at Amelia.
Then at the door.
Then back at Evelyn.
"Well," he said mildly, "if I say you're misunderstanding, will you believe it?"
Michael did not smile.
Sebastian did not react.
Amelia looked like she wanted to laugh, while Evelyn's eyes narrowed slightly.
Lucifer looked at everyone's expression and sighed.
"Well... this is going to be a long night."