Warnings: Sex, language, liquors, and... uh... your usual DxD stuffs I guess. What's to hate in a little bit of indecentness?

Good evening—or morning. Here I am again with a third story. I got not much to say, really. It's just a prologue and you read the summary. Basically who or what Lucifer is.

Other than that, I hope you all enjoy this new story.

Lucifer

Prologue

||Old Name, New Life||

Famous last words, they say, yet the ones that are famous are so few and far in between. He used to wonder what thoughts invaded someone's mind when death's door was just a breath away. If 'life flashes before your eyes' is an actual thing and not just some sort of tall-tales made by imaginative and wishful story tellers. And if it is true, he wondered how it would feel to watch your entire life flashes by; what rays of emotions he'll experience. Everything and anything that leads to the birth of those famous last words.

Because he couldn't think of anything else aside from, "Fuck."

And no. His life did not flash and neither did the winged woman upon him, which was a massive disappointment for his part. Is he going to die without ever seeing a lady's love fruits - his reasons of being - with his own eyes? Is he doomed to never feel their fineness, their plumpness, their marshmallow-like softness? Is he stuck with his own imagination and feeling his anime girl mouse-pads will be his closest experience of touching those funbags?

Unfortunately, yes.

The boy known as Issei Hyoudou died in a severe case of blood loss from the gaping hole in his chest. That, or the organs failure killed him first. Either way he's dead. He lived his life like a virgin, and died as a true virgin.

His date for the evening stood there, looking not the least mournful or even bothered by his dead body slumping awkwardly by the fountain with his butt pointing to the sky. He might be dead, but goddamn was she a sight to behold. Especially after she transformed into this... kinky slave-master-torturer-thing. Something of the sort. Bondage was outside his area of interest.

Silk black hair, juicy tender thighs that he'd die for to plant his face in between, slim slender waist, lovely healthy pair of chest-fruits, and a sadistic pretty face to top it all.

Not that it mattered anymore.

Too bad he was killed. Dead. Gone from this world. Freed from his mortal coil. Unbridled from the hardships of living. Not breathing. Unalive.

Some believed that once you die, you'll be reborn depending on your good and bad deeds. If you do good, then you'll be a new human fresh from the oven - or more appropriately; a mother's womb. If you do more bad and was very bad during your time, then you'll have to live a life as a newt. Or worse, a tree. Imagine spending your entire day hanging there, photosynthesizing oxygen, doing nothing but being a crucial entity for the human to live whilst feeling treevial- trivial as long as you live.

And to some others, the Christians, or The Believers —as he referred them— claimed that the souls of people who passed away goes to either Heaven or Hell. Or as some would like to input, to some sort of a waiting room first. Eventually they will all go to one of those two places as their final destination, living in jubilant joy in the land of milk and honey, or forever being poked by pointy sticks by red-skinned people with goat-horns.

In other word, a Devil.

But those descriptions - which are not only racist, stereotypical, rude, demeaning, and on top of it all; condescending – are false.

Still, there was some truth into it.

As he died, his soul did leave his body. It did voyage through a dimension invisible to the eyes. However, this soul was not to be reborn as an animal or a plant or a newt, nor it went towards the glorious pearly gates of Heaven.

Nope. It went straight back to Hell.

Or in a more accurate term, as the soul of The Dark Prince was never originally a human soul, returned to Hell.

Break

"Gah—!" With a sharp gasp, he rose from his deep slumber. The shock brought him to sit up, but his 'sitting up' was halted by something solid and made of stone that caused a very real headache when he head-butted it. "AGH— BLOODY—"

For a good amount of time, he uttered all the curses and combination of vile words that he learnt during his past lifes. He rarely utter curses; at least none creative and lengthy for common cases, but slamming his forehead to a rock first thing after waking up wasn't exactly common case either.

Afterwards, after he calmed down to a murmur of blasphemies, he found that he was encased in a tight space. It was highly uncomfortable and smelled as dirty like dirt.

"Ah... Bugger." He groaned as he realized where and who he was. Normally, after dying as a human, his soul would look around for another human vessel to latch on. Obviously that wasn't the case this time.

He contemplated his life.

"Huh." He hummed, finding it odd that he still held the memories of his previous life. As Issei Hyoudou from birth to his death, complete like reading a biography book of that boy's.

Regardless, he cared little for his petty human lifes.

His russet brown eyes flickered into a dark shade of crimson, before everything in a mile radius enveloped by a fierce explosion. Dust, dirt, mud and smokes wafted high up in the air as he crept out from his grave into the clearing; upon the crater he made, in the middle of a barren battlefield. No vegetation in sight. No water. Just a parched wasteland surrounded by an ocean of everlasting fire. Destruction as far as his eyes could see.

His dry lips pursed back as old memories came back like a flood. The fighting, the screaming, the needless bloodshed, and the countless deaths that followed, all of them reoccurred to him like the only redeeming scene of an otherwise horrible movie.

Such an ugly thing, war is.

"Not the time for depressing thoughts." He pepped himself, and was little bit surprised at his own, original voice. It had been long since he heard himself talked this smooth yet husky, sexily raspy... and... Devilishly charming. He made a mental reminder to test it at the ladies the moment he met one.

Hearing his old voice also brought another thought came to mind. A dire one, in fact.

Out of thin air, a pillar of ice crystalized. Perfectly smooth surface but not blindingly shiny.

He took a look at himself.

He was unclothed, but—

"Why hello there you sexy little Devil..."

And here he thought he had become a rotting corpse during his absence. It turned out he was worrying for naught. Still he retained his magnificent form that can make the morning stars pale in comparison. Still h was devilishly dashing and angelically stunning.

He could use some trimming, though. He looked like Jesus.

Not a problem too big to handle. As in under a couple of seconds, he regained his old look. His bold brown hair in quiffed hairstyle that everyone used to make fun of, his beloved black suit and trousers, and not forgetting his elegant dress shoes. He was way ahead of his time, you see. He had been wearing these apparels even when slippers were the trend back in the day.

Something was missing, though. His wrist felt naked. "Could use a watch." He supposed, "Christ Verra for the irony, maybe?"

He checked himself out in front of the makeshift-mirror for a little while longer, until someone cut his self-appreciating moment short.

"{I don't remember you ever being this debonair, runt.}"

That rumbly, beastly voice made his skin jump. "What in tarnation— who said that?!" he demanded as he looked around the vicinity, alerted, and a little bit creeped out. He wondered if this was what Adam felt when he heard his Creator's voice for the first time.

"{Who I am?}" The voice continued, chuckling deeply. "{I'll tell you who I am... boy.}" He said. Proudly, haughtily, like a warrior wanting to boast. "{I was here, here at this desolate land you stand. I was present during the grandest war of all wars... the Great War. Here, at the very place where the Three Factions meddled my eternal bout against my rival, the White Dragon of Supremacy. When then they combined due to our indomitable power, and sealed me within an artifact... An artifact bestowed from the God of the Bible to His creations. Humans... What I reside is a Sacred Gear...A Longinus... Are you even listening?}"

He was in the middle of fixing the lapels of his black suit and adjusting his patterned tie, so no, he was not listening. "Hm? Oh yeah, sure. Sacred Rear. Lengthy nose. Bits and bobs."

{It's Sacred Gear you lout! And it's Longinus!} Roared the being trapped in said artifact, {Are you not aware who you are talking with? I am The Red Dragon of Domination! Mountains crumble as I speak, seas part and the earth split upon my arrival, and my presence alone instill unaltered fear to the hearts of many! I am the one who caused havoc and forced the Three Major Factions to combine their strength in order to defeat me! I am Y Ddraig Gooch!}

"Well, nice to meet you, "Why The Drake Pooch"." He said without a sliver of care, smiling his set of pearly whites and winking at himself for being so darned good looking. He did find his name to be odd.

Ddraig's snarl escalated to a low growl. "{My name... is Ddraig!}"

"Oh pipe down will you? No need to yell." The man let off a throaty chuckle as he tore a black slit into the air with a drag of a finger, and pried it wider with both his hands.

The sudden silence of his guttural growls implied that the mighty Dragon was stunned, and he was. "{That's... that's a portal...?}" Ddraig muttered in wonder. "{Did you just tear a rift in space and time?}"

"If that is how you want to put it."

"{Hold on... Devils can't do that...}"

"Why... yet here it is."

Ddraig was baffled. Not even he could conjure a direct doorway to the same world, let alone making one to another world.

"{How...? You, what is your name?}"

"I'm Lucifer. Son of God. Sort of. It's complicated." The Godfather of all Devils replied with a charming smile, unknowingly rendering the proud Red Dragon Emperor speechless as he stepped into the portal back to earth, to the empty nave of a deserted church.

To be continued...

Hello, welcome to the bottom section. I'd give you a cookie if I have one. I'll give you two if you didn't see that coming, but I guess it's pretty obvious from the title that he's Luci. :c

I'm not sure if Lucifer's considered an OC or still Issei. Because he used to be Issei, and still have all the memories he has as that boy. Feel free to tell me if I should change the character tag to OC.
Edit: Luci is OC.

And no. Although he dresses sharply, speaks in pronounced RP British accent, and is a witty fellow himself, he's not the Lucifer in the TV Series Lucifer. He is inspired from him, but is a completely different Lucifer.

Thank you for reading, and have a good day, everyone.

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