Chapter 211: A Pissed Daniel

Lucifer sat with one leg crossed over the other, staring at the faint, red glow in the dark.

The tower resting floor was quiet. Too quiet.

He tilted his head back and muttered, "Gonna lose my mind here..."

His voice echoed in the silence like a whisper spoken to no one in particular.

The last two hours had been still. No new floors. No sounds. Just the distant hum of the blood-charged air and the quiet pulsing of the glass wall behind him. The Core in his chest kept ticking like a clock made of hunger. A quiet, steady reminder that he was close—but not there yet.

Close wasn’t good enough.

He stood and started pacing barefoot, fingers running through his blood-matted hair.

"Alright," he whispered. "Let’s break it down."

Step one: Become more than what I am.

Not evolution. Not just another stage. He needed to awaken what the first vampire left buried in his blood.

His father—Damaris—had vanished with secrets still locked in his spine. And Lucifer was tired of chasing ghosts.

"I’ll need the relics," he muttered. "The old ones."



The Legacy of the First Fang.

He already had the Crimson Grimoire. But there were others: the Hollow Fang, the Chalice of Eternal Veins, the Throne of Bloodletters. Tools of war. Keys to truth. Scattered across forgotten vampire sanctuaries and sealed worlds.

Lucifer walked to the edge of the glass again, watching the void shift.

"I’ll get them all."

Step two: Break the Core.

The system made it clear—he needed to hit something so hard, it rattled existence. He couldn’t do that inside this tower. But outside?

There were still ancient battlegrounds untouched. One of them was the old capital of the vampire realm, sealed after the war with the bloodless. Beneath that capital was a gate—one connected to a fragment of the World Vein. Destroying that gate might be enough to trigger a Core overload.

"Sounds messy," he grinned. "I like it."

Step three: Francisca.

He exhaled slowly.

She had died in the crossfire. Taken by Malakov’s madness and Adam who finally killed her, lost to experiments that should’ve never existed.

Lucifer closed his eyes.

If he could find where it frayed—where her soul lingered—he could pull her back. But not with necromancy. That wasn’t his style.

He’d use Blood Reclamation—a forbidden ritual that returned a bonded vampire from the edge of the void by rewriting the death-state through his own core.

Of course, he’d have to survive the recoil. Most who tried that died instantly.

He rolled his neck.

"Then I won’t die."

Step four: Adam.

Lucifer leaned back against the glass and looked up.

The mortal realm was ruined. Not because of Adam’s malice... but because of his strength. His existence warped reality just by breathing. But now, Lucifer wasn’t some shadow in the dark anymore. He had climbed twenty floors in a tower built by the original gods, fought beasts that shouldn’t exist, and walked away still standing.

When the time came, he’d face Adam. Not to destroy him...

But to stop him.

And if that failed?

Well.

"Then I’ll bleed him dry."

He smirked to himself.

"Simple."

Step five...

He paused.

Then let out a long sigh.

"Step five," he said quietly, "...I stop acting like a corpse."

He rubbed his jaw, eyes half-lidded with the kind of tired that went deeper than the bones.

He’d been walking through ash for too long—too focused, too brooding, too wrapped in being this... perfect lord figure everyone expected.

But that wasn’t who he used to be.

He used to smile. Tease. Touch without breaking. Kiss without biting. He used to love wine and music and long nights without war plans or blood rites.

And women...

Oh, the women.

Lucifer chuckled.

"I’ve been a statue for too long."

He remembered the way Luna blushed when he smiled. The way Alessia once leaned close during a battle and whispered, "You’re no fun anymore." The way Serah still looked at him like he owed her a dozen nights and never delivered.

If Francisca’s was here, he knew what she would tell him: "Don’t forget who you were before all this throne shit."

She was right.

It was time.

Time to build again.

He needed to surround himself with beauty. With power. With women who wouldn’t just follow him into fire—but make it burn brighter.

A harem wasn’t about lust. It was legacy. Loyalty. Pleasure with purpose.

He didn’t want dolls.

He wanted queens. Fighters. Killers. Thinkers. Women who would drag him from his spiral and remind him why he loved the night.

Vina was still fire incarnate. Kira’s curses made her taste like chaos. Luna had heart. Alessia had shadow. Serah? Serah was just waiting for him to give in.

Then there were new ones. Names he didn’t know yet. Faces he hadn’t seen. But he’d find them.

He’d taste lightning again.

Lucifer grinned wide, fangs peeking just barely.

"Step five... is fun."

He walked to the center of the room and sat cross-legged.

The blood around him curled up his ankles, slow and warm.

He let his thoughts settle.

The Core pulsed once.

Then again.

He could feel it—closer now.

The plan was set.

Recover the remaining relics.

Overload the Core using a World Vein fracture.

Reclaim Francisca.

Confront Adam.

Reclaim himself.

He looked at his hand—held it up to the soft red glow of the resting floor’s light.

"Tomorrow," he whispered.

He didn’t sound tired anymore.

He sounded ready.

And somewhere, far off...

the tower trembled just slightly.

As if it knew—

Lucifer wasn’t done yet.

Demon Realm – Ninth Circle, Throne Chamber

The sky outside bled red.

Not a sunrise. Just another storm of ash. Fire cracked in the distance, spilling from the volcanic ridges that ringed the capital like a crown of thorns. Inside, the throne chamber was darker than usual. Quiet. Heavy.

Daniel stood by the window. One hand clenched so tight, his knuckles were pale against his dark skin. The other rested against the stone frame, fingers tapping without rhythm. His eyes didn’t move. Fixed on the bed behind him.

Lilith lay there.

Pale. Still. Covered in silk wraps soaked through with glimmering black blood.

Her face didn’t move. Her chest barely rose. If not for the faint flicker of her aura still struggling beneath her skin, she might’ve looked dead.

She wasn’t.

Not yet.

But close.



Daniel’s jaw tightened.

He turned away from the window and walked slowly toward her bed. His boots echoed faintly on the obsidian floor. He stopped at the edge of the bed and stared down at her for a long time.

Her silver lashes fluttered, just once.

He leaned in.

"...You shouldn’t have done it."

His voice was low. Too calm.

"You should’ve let him die."

No answer.

He reached out, brushing a stray strand of her blood-matted hair from her cheek.

"You gave everything... to protect him." His lip curled. "Lucifer."

That name tasted like poison right now.

She had dragged herself across planes. Fought off the celestial agents that tried to erase his brother. And took a wound meant for someone who wasn’t even here now.

He looked down at her bandaged torso.

The corruption was still there, pulsing like rot under her ribs.

Daniel’s eyes burned.

"I begged you not to go," he muttered. "I told you. If he wants to throw himself into the fire, let him."

He swallowed back the heat in his throat.

"But you never listen."

He dropped into the chair beside her bed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

"You always loved him more."

The words were quiet.

Not bitter. Just... tired.

He tilted his head back, staring at the high ceiling where demonic glyphs hovered in slow motion—wards designed to keep her soul anchored.

She shouldn’t be this broken.

Not her.

Not Lilith—the Queen of Crimson Night, Mother of Lust, the demon who could melt gods with a glance.

And yet here she was.

Burned.

Ravaged.

Because she tried to protect that bastard.

Daniel exhaled, long and deep.

He stood again and started pacing.

Every step echoed like thunder in the chamber.

"The others are watching," he said to no one. "They think the throne is vulnerable now. That I’ll be too soft while you’re in this bed."

He paused.

Then smiled without humor.

"They forget I’m not you."

He cracked his knuckles.

"They try anything, I burn their cities. I don’t negotiate."

He turned sharply and stared at her again.

"But he should be here."

His voice finally cracked.

"That ungrateful piece of shit should be here, standing where I am, watching what he did to you."

He gritted his teeth.

"Where is he?"

Still climbing some goddamn tower like none of this mattered.

Still playing king in his own story while the woman who raised them both bled out in a bed made for corpses.

Daniel’s hand lit with a soft, dark flame—his signature. Hellfire wrapped around his knuckles, whispering like wind through dry bones. It reflected in his eyes, casting sharp shadows across his face.

"He doesn’t deserve your love."

The words hung there, heavy.

But then...

Lilith stirred.

Barely.

Her lips parted—dry, cracked, almost lifeless.

Still, a word came.

"...Daniel."

His eyes widened.

He rushed forward, leaned close.

"I’m here."

She blinked slowly. Her voice was faint.

"Don’t hate... your brother."

Daniel froze.

"No."

She reached for his arm. Weak. Trembling.

But her grip—still had weight.

"You’re both... mine," she whispered. "Don’t forget that..."

Daniel’s breath hitched.

"Stop talking."

She didn’t.

"He still... has a chance."

"To what?" he asked, voice shaking. "To make another mess? To get more of us killed?"

"To save us," she breathed.

Daniel’s jaw tightened again.

He pulled away, turned his back.

"I don’t believe that anymore."

Silence.

Then—

"...Then stay. Believe in me."

Daniel closed his eyes.

And after a long pause, he nodded once.

"Fine."

He turned back toward her.

"I’ll keep the throne warm. I’ll tear the teeth out of anyone who tries to take it."



He walked back to the window.

"But if he doesn’t come back soon... if he keeps running..."

The flame in his hand sparked higher.

"I’ll go get him myself."

He stared out into the endless red sky of the Demon Realm.

And somewhere—beneath the crackling storms and broken moons—he felt it.

Lucifer was still alive.

Still walking that edge between monster and myth.

Still chasing a power that might burn the rest of them with it.

Daniel narrowed his eyes.

He didn’t fear that.

He just hated being left behind.