I own not a single piece of work that I would be writing about in this crossover, except for those exclusively created by me.

It was the culmination of a life's ambition, a perfectly scripted play, carried out to perfection in a fashion that would make Shakespeare weak at the knees.

There was no pain, unsurprising really, as the blade piercing through his chest had been thrust through expertly, severing both muscle and bone in a single fluid movement, rendering him numb from the chest down.

He could hear the shock from the crowd, despite the eerie silence that had fallen over them all. He almost wished he could see their faces, looking on in awe as the Demon Emperor Lelouch vi Britannia, who had attempted to conquer the world by taking the EU hostage, was silenced by the renegade Zero, the masked revolutionary that had stirred the nation of Japan against the empire.

Only the captive members of the rebellion, the former Black Knights, looked on in confusion, though he suspected that several had a dawning understanding of what was going on. They, after all, knew his true identity, that HE was in fact Zero, and had 'used' them to pave his path to the throne.

All a lie, all a means to an end, to ensure that the world no longer deteriorated into a never-ending cycle of hatred and bloodshed, where people like his beloved sister would no longer live in fear.

'Nunnally…' he wondered, even as he spoke with Suzaku, his closest friend, and now his executioner, bloody fingertips trailing against the mask he himself had once worn, which shielded the Japanese Knight's face, a smile on his face as he bestowed his last instructions on the teen, even as he stumbled away.

He never felt the pain as he fell, his back hitting the walkway, leaving a bloody smear across the Britannian flag displayed there. He slid all the way, under the watchful eyes of the world, coming to a rest at the foot of the pagoda, broken, bloody, an oppressor dethroned before the oppressed.

A shadow moved in the corner of his waning vision, Nunnally, his precious little sister, the one that had first denounced him as a demon, now looking on in disbelief as he lay there, a smile on his face. 'It's over…Nunnally…' he wanted to tell her, but he couldn't even turn his eyes to look at her, no more than he could draw air into his ruptured lungs, nor move his leaden arms and legs.

"Big Brother, I love you!"

Those words, four simple words that, to the dying Emperor, carried with them a greater power than if God himself had spoken them. His lips parted, eyes turning upwards into the growing light, a smile on his lips as he tightened numb fingers around her own "I know…" he whispered, smiling all the while, even as the light gradually faded "I…destroyed world… and created…anew…"

And with that, Lelouch vi Britannia, 99th emperor of Britannia, passed away, his eyes shutting beneath the shining sun of his homeland.

Just before the monarch's eyes closed though, a brief image, a vaguely bird-shaped crest, shone red against his purple eyes…

Wham!

The boy, handsome and beautiful, put down the heavy book bound with pristine white covering on the old wooden table that creaked with its weight. Exasperatedly rubbing his throbbing forehead with his slender hands, he closed his eyes in weariness.

"Haaa... this book is indeed worthy of its fame as a sinful book of magical ways. Just glancing at this 'Original Grimoire' is as agonizing as dying a thousand harrowing deaths."

If a normal person were to even glance at the content of an 'Original Grimoire', his very soul would be eroded by its poisonous contents. Just a single look at its forbidden knowledge might condemn normal men to wretched insanity and agonizing deaths. The weight of its existence could not be borne by the souls of mortals.

"But then again, I cannot be called completely normal, can I?" The boy ran a hand through his raven locks, "Should I show my gratitude to the 'sinful' blood that flows through my veins or should I thank my soul that had witnessed the 'abyss' for these unprecedented blessings?"

The teenage boy, Lelouch Crowley laughed at himself mockingly, before taking a deep breath to calm down his muddled mind as he turned his attention to the surroundings, putting a stop to the incoherent train of thought that bore no fruits.

It was an old apartment, practically ancient with a particularly bland history, decorated with odd pieces of furniture which were arranged orderly. The furniture was wiped clean, the few decorations on the walls were also cheap but unique, and there was a small potted plant placed on the window sill.

There were no objects of luxury and comfort inside the room and the most valuable thing that could be seen was the dusty bookcase densely packed with books placed in the corner of the room.

From the furnishings of the house, one could clearly tell that although the owner of the room was not awfully impoverished, he was also someone absolutely unrelated to the word— wealth.

But Lelouch, in his own humble opinion, was content with this 'cozy little hut'.

In the days of the early twentieth century after the dawn of the First World War, being able to live in the residential part of London with his sister, instead of dwelling within the slums like before could already be considered a blessing for an orphan like him.

Fortunately, surviving within the streets of a city like London was but a trivial matter for someone of his calibre. Even as a boy yet to fully mature, he had secured a means of income within weeks after his sister's birth and had subsequently, devoted himself to the upbringing of his sister thereafter.

His mother had died while giving birth to his younger sister and as for the existence who held the title of his father, he may have even forgotten about his own children.

Lelouch never had high expectations from those who had given him birth to begin with, neither in this life nor in his old.

His mother: a traitor ready to sacrifice her own children, while his father: a tyrant capable of abandoning his own children with nary a second thought; had ensured as much in this regard.

Others might balk at the thought of him, a former prince who had tasted all the pleasures that the world had to offer, living in borderline poverty. But then again, he had never paid mind to the thought of those beneath him.

Yes, Lelouch was an Emperor who had been 'reincarnated', an anomalous existence who had experienced the cycle of life and death.

He had always been an avid dreamer, at the day he remained Lelouch Crowley, the loving brother but at night he dreamt…

He dreamed of the Empire. Men clad in knight's armour and ships that sailed star and sky. Armies of men beyond count and cohorts of every race and stripe. He dreamed of Revolution: a noble end through wicked means. Though fate blessed his crusade with victory, they punished his deeds with death.

His pink lips tiled into a mirthless, hollow smile as remembered that he had escaped his punishment once again, finally understanding the pain which had been torturing Suzaku for almost seven years. He was supposed to die…

And yet…

Though time and age may change, Lelouch had always believed that people would remain the same.

There was a time when they lived in caves, fighting and killing others over the smallest of things, and remained the same even as time moved on and technology progressed.

Sure, they liked to pretend that they had changed, that they became more civilized and forgot their old barbaric ways, but it was a lie. Just like before, when they fought over food and water for their tribes to survive, and to be more powerful than others. Now they waged war over entire continents to expand their authority and ensure the survival of their states.

'This world might be different from mine, but some things never change.' The young man thought as he glanced outside. It was late at night, but the night sky was completely dark. The moon was shrouded in blackness and the sky was void of any starlight.

"The people's revolution succeeded in this world and what happened to Napoleon was truly a shame, but that still did not stop other countries from committing atrocities akin to my old homeland."Lelouch mused, he had once wondered what a world without Britannia would look like. At least in this world, they had dissolved the empire early. "Britannia was never the sole perpetrator that created such a cruel world. It was hatred and greed that gave birth to cruelty within the hearts of humans."

Methods and reasons might have changed, but the main idea behind it all stayed the same.

It feels sad to witness the cruelty embedded within human nature, that even the endless boundaries of space-time could not stop countless atrocities that plagued the world.

"But this world has surprised me in a completely unexpected way. Even after everything I saw, it's hard to believe that the supernatural truly exists." Magic, gods, and the supernatural. If Lelouch had not experienced metaphysical mysteries in C's world then, he was sure he would be reluctant to believe in any of it. "But after everything that happened, I shouldn't be surprised anymore."

Thinking of this, Lelouch glanced at the book on the table and grazed the rough cover with the delicate tips of his fingertips, a thousand different emotions that he could neither identify nor understand passing through him.

The pristine white cover was cold and was subsumed in a mysterious aura that drew scathing attention, but the book itself looked new, without any historical heaviness that came naturally with age.

But only Lelouch knew that if this book was thrown into the moonlit world, it was capable of creating a sensation whose reverberations could be felt by the sorcerers and magus alike.

The Book of the 777.

Author: Aleister Crowley

In his previous life, he had never pondered much about such topics before, preferring to focus his thoughts on more important matters than the supernatural.

But this world that was tied with his new life was inherently different…

Like all other modern sorcerers, Lelouch had drabbled into the world of the supernatural because he too had a wish to complete, desires that must be sated at the cost of his very soul.

But unlike what most others would have done in his place, Lelouch didn't openly mix in the affairs of the moonlit world for the sake of power alone but instead chose to follow the most logical path he could think of, which was to be live a simple, honest life with his sister in this shabby London apartment.

His only contact with the wider world of the supernatural was through the books left behind by his father which he had in turn inherited from his mother. Aside from the single 'Original Grimoire' on his bookshelf, he had not encountered anything that was not mundane in his entire life nor had he ever dared to investigate such matters.

All because Lelouch was certain that his death would be absolute should he step foot into the darkness of the moonlit world.

Not because of a personal vendetta or some grand stratagem of his enemies, but because of rather his infamous father who had somehow managed to make life difficult enough for him just through his existence alone.

Lelouch was more than certain that his egregious luck when it came to his parents had not changed even after his death.

"My parents somehow manage to create trouble without exception it seems, both in this life and the previous one," Lelouch smiled in dark amusement, "In my humble opinion, while this father of mine is infinitely better than Charles, I never had any thoughts of contacting Aleister Crowley either. My father can roll out as far as he could for all I care."

If his source of information was correct, which he usually was, then currently, Aleister Crowley was being chased by the devils, sorcerers, magicians, magi, magic gods, angels, divine spirits, heroes, and beasts who were after his head. In fact, he was being pursued by everyone.

It was not an exaggeration to say that he was currently the enemy of the entire world, no different from what he had been while playing the role of Demon Emperor...

At this point in time, the thing most desirable to any practitioner of mystery in this point of time was— Aleister Crowley's death!

If Lelouch dared to move openly and declare his identity as the son of Aleister Crowley, he would have to face countless waves of sorcerers chasing after him like mad dogs, hunting him down day and night. It would be difficult to live a day more, no, even a minute more.

Though no normal child would say this, Lelouch found it quite fortunate that Aleister had forgotten about their existence. Even as a father, the man had forgotten his own offspring, let alone other sorcerers.

This gave Lelouch and his sister a relatively stable living environment.

Moreover, Lelouch could not do anything even if he wanted to go out. At his current strength, opposing the countless magic cabals that were after his father's head was equivalent to committing suicide.

His usual schemes might work but he had no interest in gambling with his life and that of his sister without apt reasons.

Lelouch knew how to cast spells, but only a little.

The sorcery Lelouch knew was learned through self-study; he had no great master to teach him nor was he affiliated with any prestigious institute that might sponsor his studies. He had not any sort of received education in subjects of mystery. So, his only experience in this field came from the tomes of magic left behind by Aleister.

Lelouch's mother should have once been Aleister's close lover and his father had definitely lived with her before. Otherwise, he would not have left so many of his books with her.

The books in the bookcase behind him were currently his greatest wealth. And the most valuable of amongst them was the book lying on the table:

"The Book of 777"

In Christianity, the number 7 had great importance, representing completeness and perfection.

God took 7 days to create the world, and he also took a rest on the seventh day.

In the Book of Revelation, God listed 7 churches.

7 are the seven spirits of God. In the process of God's Day of Judgment, there are seven seals, seven trumpets, seven bowls, and even seven plagues.

God gave Noah 7 days of grace.

Solomon built the temple in seven years and there are even 7 biblical feasts.

Jesus Christ spoke the famous 'Seven Last Words'.

'7' was arguably the most important number in the Bible, and it had great magical power. The importance of the number seven was recognized by both the magus and the sorcerers from the Aeon of Isis and the modern sorcerers from the Aeon of Osiris alike. It was a sacred number, usually associated with luck and holiness.

Modern sorcery was heavily based on 'Idol Theory' and symbolism so if anyone in the magical world laid his eyes upon the 'Book of 777', they would surely conclude just the title and the covering, that the book before him was a holy scripture that described rituals related to Christianity.

In fact, what was recorded in this book was indeed an analysis of the works of God, the Sephiroth, the blessings of saints, and the names of holy angels. But the contents of the book were not just limited to analysis of the holy way and the so-called 'pristine' magics.

What was recorded in this book was not just constrained to the bounds of the Kabbalah: The Tree of Life at all, but it also contained analysis and depictions of the inverted tree, known as the Qliphoth: The Tree of Evil.

The Qliphoth was completely opposite to the tree of Kabbalah, covering another side of the world. Being the inverse of the Sephiroth which was protected by angels, Qliphoth was often interpreted as 'The Tree of Evil' having demons as the guardians of its spheres.

Containing analysis and depictions of both the Sephiroth and the Qliphoth, it could be said that the book before him contained an intricate study of almost the entirety of the modern magic based on Abrahamic Religions. It was a treasure trove of knowledge that sorcerers would have sold their very souls to possess.

The 'Book of 777' was a priceless artifact whose value could not be measured. Its contents could shake the very foundations of the moonlit world.

Only Lelouch, who had read and analysed the contents of this book for more than ten years, was privy to the knowledge recorded in 'The Book of 777' which was a combination of numerous theses on modern sorcery.

The strength it contained was superficial. The 'Original Grimoire' was a collection of theories meant to impart knowledge for the sake of research rather than materialistic power.

What this book really explained was the thought processes of the man known as Aleister Crowley. The book could be said to be Aleister's masterpiece, describing his true path of 'magick', as he described it.

'Seven' was originally the sacred number of Christianity, but Aleister had connected the number 'seven' with the 'BEAST' destined to bring about the apocalypse. Due to this, the magical code before him became a book full of 'human evil', and the whole article turned into a cluster of paradoxes.

Twisting the holy number, an act against God that showed Aleister's arrogance!

"That man truly deserves to be called the 'Beast of the Apocalypse'," Lelouch sighed, "My father is indeed the most evil man in the world. This is simply abandoning the world created by God."

He exhaled heavily, even thinking of the contents recorded inside this book made gave rise to an excruciating pain throbbing inside his head.

The poison of the book describing the original sin, full of 'human evil' was capable of destroying his very soul should he be careless even for a split second, dragging his spirit inside a filthy and demonic, vicious swamp that threatened to subsume his entire being into the abyss of non-existence.

Lelouch shook his head, refusing to linger on thoughts that threatened his very being before glancing at the broken clock hanging on the wall.

The evening was almost upon him, and he had to go pick up his sister

Another one of my stories, this time again about Lelouch. This one is inspired by the Webnovel The Holy Right: A Multiverse Occultist. The starting might be similar but both would be drastically different from the second arc onwards.