Fallen Angel Lucifer

The Demon Lord was on his way to the Field Hospital, wanting to set everything in order before heading north. He was uncharacteristically in a rush as he walked through the empty rehabilitation district that was usually flooded with patients.

“Mister Secretary,” Yu greeted him with a smile.

The Demon Lord acknowledged her and entered the exam room before silently turning off Assault Queller. It would have gotten in the way of the procedure he was about to undergo. In a haste, the Demon Lord hung his coat and suit jacket on hangers and yanked his tie off. As he partially unbuttoned his shirt, he heard Yu exhale. “Let’s get started, Yu.”

“Y-Yes, Sir...! But are you...sure?”

“Yes. Do it.”

Timidly, yet with strange anticipation, she activated Censorship. The Demon Lord had commanded her to overwrite his age to 18. This would commence the Demon Lord’s grand, once-in-a-lifetime performance.

“Excuse me, Sir...” Yu’s hand operated at blinding speed, augmenting the Demon Lord’s age. Despite the supernatural effect of the procedure, it had been performed much too easily. Now a young man who resembled a black blade stood where the Demon Lord was. The tense air about him suggested that any who dared lay a finger on him would erupt in dark flames. This was about the age when those around Hakuto Kunai were beginning to suspect that he would take an important role in government one day. They were right, as Kunai started his career as an elite government official and climbed his way up. After climbing as high as the ladder would go, and once his project was approved, Kunai had found himself as one of the rulers of the Empire, marking the beginning of their glorious reign and ultimate destruction.

“Hm. This brings back memories,” the Demon Lord remarked without much sentiment.

Yu, on the other hand, held her mouth and nose with the back of her hand, letting out a strange squeal. It seemed as if she was about to have a nosebleed from the elation of beholding the younger Demon Lord. “M-Mister Secretary? Are you sure I shouldn’t censor you some more? Perhaps to the age of 8...”

“Nonsense. Then my plan won’t stand.” The Demon Lord performed consecutive Item Creations to generate a pair of new objects called the Fallen Angel Wings and Fallen Angel Garb. There had been many video games that utilized weapons and armor based on angels and demons, and these pieces from the game were another example, along with the Angel’s Ring and Devilish Horns. “I’m going to change my clothes, Yu.”

“Y-Yes, Sir! I’m happy to assist.”

“I-I was asking you to step outside for a moment...”

“I wouldn’t dare! What if something happens to you, Sir?! Please?!”

“I’ve reactivated the Queller. Don’t worry.”

The Demon Lord managed to convince Yu to step out of the room and began changing his clothes. Naturally, the items he had just created were fashion items without any practical stat bonuses. If a player wearing these would have charged into battle, they would have been vaporized on the spot. (Now these give off a strong 90s vibe...) he thought, reminiscing while looking at his now-spiky hair reflected in the mirror. The 90s was the height of punk bands, and the streets were filled with young men and women who dressed just as he was now. The clothes were torn here and there, with an arm and a leg wrapped in chains, for some reason. All in all, it was a stereotypical all-black punk outfit. (The clothes are one thing, but these wings... I feel like it’s Halloween.) The Demon Lord resigned himself to his fate and attached the Fallen Angel Wings to his back. It was one of his strong points, after all, that he was willing to do just about anything once he set his mind to it. (It’s been a while, but this thing is definitely over the top...) The wings consisted of six large feathers on either side, each of them gleaming a sinister sheen. Still, it was a garbage item with a Defense of 2. Nevertheless, its properties were undoubtedly real, just as they were designed.

The Demon Lord’s cutting looks, attire, and the dark aura exuding from his wings now completely solidified his appearance as the Fallen Angel himself, just as he had appeared in ancient songs.

“M-Mister Secretary... May I come in now?” Yu hurriedly knocked and much too eagerly burst into the room. As soon as she did, she let out another squeal. “Precious...! This look has its own arsenal of spices, doesn’t it, Sir...?!”

(Who am I, Dr Pepper?!) The Demon Lord resisted the urge to shout, and then felt relieved that she hadn’t burst out laughing. If she had, he doubted that he would be able to pull off his act.

“Mister Secretary... Could you...hold me, just for a moment?”

“What...?”

“Would you grant me this reward, Sir, before you take your time off?”

“W-Well... That’s...” The Demon Lord trailed off, looking awkward. He had brushed his promise to take her to the hot springs under the rug, and he was now taking advantage of her powers again. It seemed too cruel to not repay her in some way. “But won’t the chains hurt you if—”

“They won’t bother me in the slightest, Sir! In fact, that would be a bonus!”

“W-Wait a minute... Bonus?!”

Yu dove into his arms and buried her face in his chest. Relenting, the Demon Lord lightly put his arms around her, which prompted the unnecessarily high caliber wings to follow suit, embracing Yu with the set of pitch-black feathers. (What do you think you’re doing, wings?!) The Demon Lord fretted, but it was too late to do anything about it. The sight of Yu in her white lab coat contrasted against the bona fide Fallen Angel was filled with mystique. Still pressed into the Demon Lord’s chest, Yu’s face turned scarlet as her breathing hastened. The Demon Lord wrapped his arm around her waist, and she felt as if a hundred bolts of lightning had struck, electrocuting her from head to toe.

“Y-Yu...? Are you all right?”

“Y-Yes, Sir... I’m p-perfectly, well...!” Her bizarre reaction reminded the Demon Lord of Kondo, who had been acting like a character from a cheesy X-rated game. There was no pain in Yu’s expression though. In fact, she looked elated, as if she had been given all of the world’s happiness to herself.

“N-Now... I must be getting back to work,” the Demon Lord finally said.

“Y-Yes, Mister Secretary...” Yu crumpled as the Demon Lord vanished via Quick Travel, falling on all fours. She was breathing as heavily as a runner who had just finished a marathon. “The soul of the world... Lies within the Secretary!” Yu muttered this paradoxical claim and cackled loudly.

She was nearly skipping with joy for the rest of the day, smiling at every patient she saw as she watered the flowers, acting like a true goddess. Someone wasn’t laughing, however, and that was Cake, who had been peeping in on their interaction. (He finally showed his true colors... And those are his true colors?!) Cake had already seen different forms of the Demon Lord: his normal form, how he looked when his HP was half depleted, and now in the form of the Fallen Angel, exactly as depicted in myths. (That’s a legit monster right there! That’s... That’s the Ruler of Night!)

While Cake’s misunderstanding was being solidified, the Holy Castle was in a different type of turmoil.

——The Holy Castle, Holylight.

White and Gran were in conference in the office within the Holy Castle, a mountain of paperwork between them. White was the only one of the three Holy Maidens who was even remotely capable when it came to politics. As a consequence, she could not remember the last time she had a day off.

“That vile Dona!” Gran snarled. “Had the gall to tell me he’ll be hiking up Spell Stone prices.”

“Again? That’s not good...”

“The well-off nobles won’t be hurt, of course... This only worsens the poverty level of the common folk...”

Holylight in its current state was the embodiment of being stuck between a rock and a hard place. Dona lorded over the mines peppered throughout western Holylight, using his lucrative profits to keep many nobles and mercenaries on his payroll. To the north and near the border, the military nobles (with Harts at the helm) were acting suspiciously, and the Butterfly sisters each ruled as the empresses of high society and the art world in Central. Now, out of seemingly nowhere, White had just received the shocking news that the military and high society nobles had joined forces. Without any knowledge of how this had been managed, White was naturally unsettled. (This country is changing... More drastically than ever before...)

To the east, the barren wasteland was home to numerous bandits who sought refuge from the central government. Beneath them, in the city, many of the poorer population were buying into Satanism, while the Northern Nations were waiting for an opening to take advantage of.

As a Holy Maiden, White’s duties mostly involved performing rituals and representing the nation as a diplomat. In her authority, at most, she would be called to pass judgment on squabbles between two nobles. She held no power to enact any sort of reformation by any means.

Gran grimly stated, “Many nobles have their own land and do as they please. The Holy Church has become a husk of its former glory...”

“We’re receiving less and less donations these days...”

“Hmph! Times have changed. Who knows what they’ll ask of us if we accept their money.”

White lifted her Angel’s Ring off of her head and held it in her arms. She wanted something to lean on, as she felt like she was trapped with no way out.

Meanwhile, Gran saw a ray of hope in that ring. “If only the man who’d given you that ring would lend us his strength...” Her voice was pained, having lived many years in service only to see Holylight end up in its current state.

The sorrowful air of the office was interrupted by rushed stomps. A foot kicked the door open, and Queen marched in. “Oh the old bat’s here, too? Perfect. Give me permission to cross the border.”

“Where do you think you are?! For once in your life, won’t you act like a Holy Maiden?!” Gran raged.

“I don’t give a shit. Give me the permission.”

“Wait, Queen,” White interjected. “What do you mean, ‘cross the border’?!”

The Holy Castle was enchanted with several defenses, but the most powerful of which was drastically reduced in strength when no Holy Maidens were within its walls. That’s why White mostly stayed inside the castle while Queen or Luna went out to deal with foreign threats.

“Tartarus...”

“Tartarus?!” White and Gran repeated in unison. They had no time to deal with a threat as trivial as Tartarus during these crucial times, not to mention that it was a problem for the Northern Nations now, not Holylight.

“Sir Zero always shows up when there’s Tartarus.”

“Th-That’s your reason to—”

“Wait,” Gran stopped White. “Is ‘Zero’ the rumored Dragonborn?” Much to White’s surprise, Gran seemed interested in what Queen had to say. Whatever Zero was aiming for, it was undeniable that he had vanquished a high-ranking devil.

“No shit. I might get a clue or two if I go investigate Tartarus.”

“From the rumors I’ve heard around town...” Gran stared at Queen. “You and the Dragonborn... have the hots for each other, isn’t that right?”

“Wha—I... Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Who the hell’s going around spreading a fucking rumor like that, huh...?!”

“Now, now... That’s quite the reaction...” Gran was surprised at how red Queen’s face had become. She hadn’t believed the rumor before, knowing how berserk Queen could be. But now, Gran had something to consider. “White was given an Angel’s Ring, and you’re with the Silver Dragonborn... I wonder what signs these are...?” Gran couldn’t help but think of Luna, too. She had been tucked away in her remote land with a sketchy-sounding man who went by the title of Demon Lord. She wasn’t going to brush three separate and bizarre encounters as coincidence.

“L-Like I was saying! I just need permission to get going!”

“Wait, Queen! You’re bound to cause another commotion!”

“Huh?! That’s some bullshit, Sis. When’d I ever make a mess?”

“Surely you haven’t forgotten the Tragedy of Gatekeeper?!”

“What the hell? It wasn’t my fault the dickless idiot who came storming in was a major fucking pussy. I’d kill any thoughtless dipshit that’d come through that place.”

As the sisters bickered, Gran reached a conclusion, perhaps in a desperate attempt to break out of the corner they had been backed into. “Queen... I’ll consider giving you permission.”

“You for real, Old Bat?! Way to go!”

“Stop calling me an old bat! But I can’t give you permission now, you know?”

“Fuck yourself, Old Deer! You old, useless, piece-of-shit, trout—Ow!”

Gran slugged Queen over the head with her long staff as hard as she could. “Listen well, Queen. We can’t let you out during a time of such instability. I’ll consider it if things begin to settle. The Dragonborn may greatly aid our nation.”

“The fuck?! When are things gonna settle? Huh? Tomorrow? A minute from now?” Queen barked.

Gran only stared back in exasperation. “Easy, girl... How can you expect to catch yourself a man when you’re acting so desperate? At this rate, he would fall for White before you got a chance with him.”

“The fuck are you up to, Sis?! You man-stealing tramp!”

“How did I get roped into this?!”

The brutal interruption had brought their meeting to a halt. White decided to retire to her room at the heart of the castle and sat at her roundtable. She enjoyed the quietness of the room, due in no small part to thorough soundproofing. An altar stood behind the roundtable, framed by a solemn mural depicting the three angels. The divine air of the room suited her well.

“I wish I could see you...” White whispered. After watching Queen act completely on impulse, White was reminded that she was stuck in the castle. The man she wanted to see was within the borders of Holylight, but still out of her reach. Absentmindedly, White took a flower from the vase and began plucking its petals. “I’ll see him soon, no I won’t, I’ll see him soon, no I won’t... I’ll see him soon, no I...” That was the last petal. Holding the stem of the flower, White began to quiver. “Why not?!” She screamed, plopping her head down on the table. She, just as much as Queen, was lovestruck.

“Now that’s a classic...”

White turned towards the voice to find someone sitting on the altar. With his legs brazenly crossed, it seemed as if he was outright insulting the angels in the painting.

(It can’t be...) White stared in disbelief at the distinct silhouette exuding an aura as dark as night itself. There was no mistaking it: she was face to face with the Fallen Angel Lucifer, sung of in legends.