Chapter 238: King Of Gluttony

The first step was slow.

Lucifer didn’t rush. He walked into the center of the open space, the sound of his boots on the obsidian floor echoing in the stillness. Gluttony’s king rolled his shoulders, each movement making his armor groan like it was alive. The black crystal cleaver in his hand pulsed with a dull red glow, runes crawling along its edge.

"You’re going to regret this," the king said, voice like grinding stone.

Lucifer didn’t answer. His claws flexed once. His tail—shadow and flame braided together—uncoiled behind him. The heat in the air climbed, not from the room, but from him.

The king made the first move. One step, and the floor cracked under his weight. He swung the cleaver in a wide arc, black fire screaming from its edge like a tidal wave. The blast tore across the hall, splitting the floor and shaking the walls.

Lucifer moved like smoke. One shift, one flicker, and he was already inside the swing. His claws met the cleaver’s flat with a sharp ring, sparks scattering. The shockwave sent dust rolling across the table.

The king grinned, forcing his strength forward. "Not bad."

Lucifer tilted his head. Then he twisted his arm, the claws biting into the cleaver’s surface. The black crystal cracked.

The grin vanished.

Before Gluttony could step back, Lucifer’s free hand shot forward. His clawed fingers gripped the king’s face, fire licking from his palm. The heat wasn’t just heat—it was hunger, pulling at the magic in the king’s veins.

Gluttony roared, grabbing Lucifer’s wrist and shoving with all his weight. The push tore the floor beneath their feet. Lucifer slid back only half a step before his wings snapped open, stopping the momentum cold.

Then he moved.

One slash—clean, precise—cut through Gluttony’s shoulder plate like it was cloth. The second strike raked across his ribs, leaving deep, smoking lines.

The king snarled, swinging low. Lucifer leapt, wings kicking off the ground, flipping over the arc. He landed behind the king and drove his knee into the base of the demon’s spine. The hit was like a hammer blow, folding the larger demon forward with a grunt.

Lucifer’s tail lashed around Gluttony’s throat, yanking him back upright. The sound of the armored plates straining was sharp and ugly.

"You’re slow," Lucifer said quietly, almost in his ear.

The king roared again, his aura exploding outward. The room filled with the stench of raw hunger—a magic that pulled at everything living in reach. The nearest lesser lords flinched, feeling their strength leech toward him. The runes on the cleaver flared again, feeding on that stolen energy.

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed. His own aura surged in answer, pressing down like a mountain. The hunger faltered.

He spun the king and slammed him into the floor hard enough to leave a crater. The cleaver clattered away, skidding across the hall.

Before Gluttony could rise, Lucifer’s clawed foot pressed into his chest, pinning him. Fire flared along the talons, sinking into armor and flesh.

"You think being a sin makes you untouchable," Lucifer said, his voice low, steady. "It doesn’t. It just makes you loud."

The king’s hands gripped his ankle, trying to push him off. Lucifer let him try. Then he bent down, one hand gripping the demon’s horn.

The room went quiet. Every demon present could feel it—the pull.

Lucifer didn’t just burn the king’s body. He reached deeper, into the core where the essence of his sin lived. Gluttony’s eyes widened, his breath turning into a ragged growl. The energy was dragged from him, screaming in the air like a living thing, a coil of red-black fire twisting upward into Lucifer’s palm.

The king convulsed, his strength pouring out with it. Without the essence, his aura collapsed, leaving only flesh and rage.

Lucifer straightened, holding the coiled mass of energy up for the room to see. It writhed like a serpent before vanishing into a sealed knot of shadow in his hand.

Gluttony gasped, voice breaking. "You... can’t..."

Lucifer’s foot came off his chest. Not mercy—just a better angle. He took hold of the demon’s jaw with one hand and the base of his horn with the other.

And he pulled.

The crack was deafening. The head came free in a single motion, the body dropping back into the crater with a thud. Blood hissed against the hot floor, steaming where it pooled.

Lucifer stood over the corpse, the head dangling from his claws. His eyes swept the room. No one moved.

He dropped the head beside the body with a dull, wet sound.

The silence that followed was heavy, but not empty. It was full of something unspoken—recognition.

Lucifer looked at the empty space where the king’s seat had been. "That’s one problem solved. Five of you left. Don’t make me clear the table in one day."

Wrath’s king leaned back slowly, his expression unreadable. Pride’s gaze was sharp, calculating. Even Sloth sat up straighter, his usual disinterest shaken.

Lucifer turned, walking back toward the far end of the hall. His claws still smoked faintly, the sealed essence of Gluttony hidden away.

As he passed Teemah, she smirked. "Subtle."

Lucifer didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The point had been made.

Behind him, no one touched the body.

The heavy obsidian doors groaned open, letting a wave of heat and dim light spill into the scorched courtyard outside.

Lucifer stepped through first, his wings folding back in close, the faint smell of blood and burnt stone still clinging to him. Teemah followed at his side, her stride calm, as if they hadn’t just left a room thick with silence and the weight of what had happened.

Ruka was leaning against one of the blackstone pillars near the gate, arms crossed, watching them approach. His gaze moved first to Lucifer’s claws—still faintly smoking—then to the subtle curve at the corner of Teemah’s mouth.

"Well?" Ruka asked, voice flat but edged with curiosity.

Lucifer didn’t slow. "Good," he said simply.

He stopped just short of him. For a moment, the only sound was the faint hiss of molten rivers winding far below the courtyard walls. Then Lucifer extended his hand. Resting in his palm was the sealed knot of shadow and fire—the stripped essence of Gluttony. It writhed faintly, as if aware of what was about to happen.

Ruka’s brows lifted slightly. "Is that—"

"The sin of Gluttony," Lucifer cut in. "He doesn’t need it anymore."

Ruka stared at it for a heartbeat, the air between them almost humming with the weight of it. "And you’re giving it to me?"

Lucifer’s smirk was small, dangerous. "Congratulations. Good luck in your promotion... King of Gluttony."

He pressed the essence into Ruka’s chest. It sank into him instantly, threads of red-black energy curling into his veins. Ruka inhaled sharply, his body tensing as the power settled in—a hungry, molten weight that felt like it had always been waiting for him.

When the glow faded, his eyes had a faint new depth to them, something darker behind the calm.

He exhaled slowly, flexing his fingers once. "Feels... different."

Lucifer’s gaze held his for a moment longer, then he turned toward the outer gates. "Get used to it. You’ll need it."

Teemah glanced between them, her smirk widening just slightly. "I think the other kings are going to love this."

Lucifer didn’t look back. "They’ll live with it. Or they won’t."

The three of them stepped out into the open heat of the Demon Realm, the jagged horizon ahead already waiting for the next move.