Hi! Lugal kug-ga here! I am a long time reader but a first time writer.

Imma say this now, I own nothing of the originals portrayed in this fic, I'm merely making an iteration.

And should you see some similarities with other fanfic Authors, it might be because I've…. copied it. Or took some parts of their works and incorporated it in mine. So, credits to them.

Enough of the boring A/N and onwards to the story.

I've committed to finishing this work, should it stop updating for a year, I've probably self deleted. So, sit back, enjoy, and give a review!

oh, and please inform me of any typo or anything of the sort. thanks.

lmao, you're gonna chew me for this.

filler time!

In the world of unlimited blades, Veldaruin, Archer, and Aesir observed with keen interest. Archer, however, bore a trace of melancholy in his gaze as he watched Shirou confront the hydra with an unconventional weapon—a gunblade modeled after Kanshou and Bakuya.

"Hmmm? I didn't know that was possible," Aesir remarked, intrigued.

Shirou had managed to incorporate the concept of Nine Lives by projecting it, dismissing it, and then integrating its concept of "shooting the hundred heads" into his gunblade and bullet. This creative application allowed him to finally slay the final silver head of the hydra.

"He has creativity," Veldaruin observed.

Archer, having stopped eating his popcorn, sighed—a detail that didn't escape Veldaruin's notice. "Is something the matter, Archer?" the dragon inquired.

After a moment of silence, Archer responded with another sigh. "... I suppose even regressing back and not inheriting Kiritsugu's ideal, he still retains some remnants of his memories, fate really is ironic.."

Puzzled, Veldaruin tilted his draconic head. "But, is it not to his benefit?"

Archer met Veldaruin's gaze, his expression contemplative. "... He was my Alter."

Veldaruin's eyes widened in surprise. "Hou, I see... he was that iteration?"

Aesir, who had been listening quietly, chimed in shock. "So that's why he gave off that feeling." He referred to the sense that, despite Shirou's youthful appearance, his soul was fractured and broken—only patched together after Archer's integration of all souls from their various iterations, using the blueprint of their past as a template to fill the missing pieces.

Alter, a term for a heroic spirit's more violent and corrupted version, left the dragon baffled that the boy was once that man.

"Are you certain?" Veldaruin pressed, his voice laden with curiosity and concern. "That he was your Alter?"

Archer nodded. "Yes … I've personally dealt with his contract with the counterforce. Though as a consequence of taking away his contract it basically erased that particular possibility in that timeline sending him to the point in time when everything started for him albeit with a few alterations, but it doesn't mean that the record itself is erased. I guess the reason why it let him go, is that it still technically contracted to our being, it still has his saint graph recorded and integrated into mine."

"Interesting," Veldaruin mused, his draconic eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "To think that such a fine young man was once such a ruthless one… so that's the reason you were reluctant to touch his soul, I thought it was because he was still young."

"Hmmm, if either one of you did, then it would have completely shattered his cracked soul. Considering how my own had affected him that much already. Archers patch job really is just a patch job." Aesir chimed in with a wince.

" I'm not the user of the third need I remind you." Archer replied with a scoff.

Then, they all heaved a collective sigh as they continued to watch Shirou beyond the projected events.

Breaking the heavy silence, Aesir asked, "By the way, I forgot to ask before, but how come you can materialize food? The memories you transferred didn't have anything on it. It couldn't have been any of our iterations, could it?" He was curious about how Archer could materialize actual food that could be eaten, rather than just a projection made of magic power that would eventually disappear. It seemed like another application of the rumored First Magic.

"Hmm? Oh, it was because of a mushroom," Archer said dismissively. (A/N:Check out fate chibi chuki, it's canon)

"Mushroom?" Aesir's brows furrowed, thinking Archer was joking.

"Yeah, a talking mushroom. It's best for you not to think about it," Archer met his gaze briefly before glancing back at the TV.

Veldaruin chuckled, a deep rumbling sound. "He's right, Aesir. Some things are best left unexplored, lest you find yourself entangled in mystery that defy conventional understanding that would break your mind. Though, in this case, it's not yet the appropriate time."

Aesir clicked his tongue but didn't argue, knowing Archer wouldn't say anything more. "Still, it seemed like you know what it is he's talking about," he muttered. "A mushroom that grants the ability to materialize food... sounds hard to believe, it's straight out of a fairy tale"

Archer's gaze grew distant, scoffing, his voice taking on a more tired and melancholic tone. "Do you really have any say in it? Fairy tales often contain a kernel of truth. In our world, the lines between mystery and reality blur, only the [ ] contains it, like how Veldaruin himself became a dragon and you an elf. The mushroom in question was an anomaly, a being that defies logic. It might have also served as a reminder that our universe might be just a design in the mind of a madman."

"Hahaha, that might hold some truth. There were also times I thought my brother a madman. Though, it still eludes me how such a being took interest in you," Veldaruin inquired, his interest piqued.

Archer shrugged. "I don't know. One moment I was doing my thing, then the next I knew, I've been summoned into a reality that's not quite a reality."

Aesir shook his head, still trying to wrap his mind around the concept. " A High elf, though I understand where you're coming from. So it just… gave it to you?"

Archer's smirk was tinged with sarcasm. "Not quite. It was more of a convenience, I can materialize anything that I've created, or cooked in general as long as I still have magical energy. In exchange for it, I have to feed the countless beings that got summoned by it. I guess it forgot to relinquish it, considering I still have it."

Veldaruin nodded thoughtfully. "Though, I don't see the need to make them experience attending such a thing as a school."

Archer sighed, his gaze returning to the screen where Shirou was still fighting valiantly. "Indeed. I don't quite understand how experiencing school is of any benefit for people who are but remnants of the past, and in such strange bodies no less."

Aesir leaned back, a contemplative look on his face. "... isn't that basically the rumored First?...Well, if Veldaruin says it's not yet time, I'll let it go. Though hearing some of what you've said, I don't know if I still want to know."

Archer shrugged with an irritating smirk while pointing at his temple. "Not exactly, you can say it's merely a degraded copy"

"Well,if you still want to know about that mushroom, it's hell you'd be walking into."

Aesir winced hearing Archer's last sentence, for it was similar to the phrase he used when he was still Shirou Emiya before becoming Aesir.

With that, they fell into a comfortable silence. Aesir decided to ignore Archer's obvious jab, Veldaruin watched the heroic spirit and the high elf with a wry expression, each lost in their own thoughts as they watched Shirou's last moment before passing out on the screen.

Just then Archer's expression perked up and both Veldaruin and Aesir also turned to glance at the subject of their earlier discussion along with the two others who appeared together with him.

"Well, well, well. Speak of the devil." Archer said with an amused expression.

Aesir glanced at him with an expression that says 'seriously? Did you just say that?' to which Archer ignored putting more importance to the group of three before them.

"...is that supposed to be a joke?" Says the white haired man with red pupils.

Archer shrugged. " It's just an expression, Lucifer, we were just talking about the boy there earlier." he said, turning towards Shirou, the supposed alter of the heroic spirit Emiya.

Shirou looked at him and the aforementioned Lucifer.

" Huh? What were you talking about?" He reflexively answered. " Wait! Before that. You said Lucifer, you mean that Lucifer?!" He questioned, pointing at Lucifer.

" …didn't you know it's quite rude to point at others, boy." Lucifer intoned.

"Ah, yes, sorry about that " Shirou instinctively apologized while bowing slightly in embarrassment, and scratching his cheek in awkwardness.

"Exactly, he is that Lucifer. The morning star, the Devil, and the one equal to the biblical God before he was cast out of heaven!" Spreading his arms and speaking in a pompous tone, making a grandiose presentation for Lucifer's introduction.

"..."

"..."

"..."

For a while non spoke, Archer with no shame still maintaining his pose, looked at the three standing in front of them. While Veldaruin was watching in amusement.

Lucifer with his hand on the bridge of his nose as if holding back a headache spoke in exasperation.

"I'm quite grateful for your introduction, but I'm not here to get along with your antics. I have to ask something of import, if you're just going to continue speaking nonsense then I'll be taking my leave."

He said, starting to dissolve into motes of light.

Archer smirked hearing his words.

"Why, what's the rush? You have all the time in the world here. Are you really eager to get back to your lady that badly?"

Tch, Lucifer clicked his tongue, but didn't respond.

Archer seeing that Lucifer didn't respond heaved a sigh.

" It's about that man right?"

His voice, now a tone lower, held a tinge of seriousness that could be felt by everyone who heard it. but his knowing smile still remained.

Lucifer, about to disappear, stopped and looked at Archer.

"Yes, I figured he was talking about you and his message was meant for you."

" Yeah, I guess it was meant for me. It must have been important that he had to risk your world from being confirmed. Though, it's the old bat we're talking about, it must have been just because you were conveniently in the vicinity or just him playing around."

Lucifer raised his brow and gave Archer a questioning look.

" Don't worry about it, I've received his message. And I think it will be the last time he will appear in your world."

Archer said with a shrug. To which Lucifer nodded.

Seeing that their discussion was over, someone spoke. It was the one who had remained silent from the start when they appeared.

" Nice to finally meet the one hailed as the morning star."

As Kotomine Shirou stepped forward, bowing slightly and putting a hand over his chest, performing a typical gentleman's bow, his expression was one of curiosity.

"Lucifer, or would you prefer the name, Satan?" Kotomine Shirou began, his voice respectful yet filled with the weight of his priestly duties, "it is an honor to finally meet you, though it's not the first time I've seen you. I have many questions I wish to ask, if you would be so kind."

Lucifer turned his piercing gaze toward Kotomine Shirou, studying him for a moment before nodding slightly. "No need for the pleasantries, Boy. I am you and you are me, ask your question."

Kotomine Shirou nodded, gathering his thoughts. "First, as a servant of the Church, I must ask— "

But before he could continue Lucifer's eyes narrowed slightly as he cut him off, a hint of melancholy in his gaze. "I see, so you're a priest? Heh, the irony…. Though, We are from different realities, What you know might not be the same as my own, but. "

Kotomine Shirou nodded thoughtfully. "I see. That's true, but it might have some semblance to more than I might know. Wouldn't you say so?"

Lucifer's expression softened slightly, as he nodded. " You're right. though, are you quite sure about knowing the truth? It might do you more harm than good."

Archer, who had been listening quietly, interjected with a scoff. "Why not, plenty of events have already happened that would lead an ordinary believer to question his faith. It would be more appropriate to say that he lives for his beliefs whether what outcome might be as long as it doesn't go against his ideals."

Lucifer glanced at Archer, before looking at Kotomine Shirou, before nodding in understanding. "I see…then, it's best for you to just see for yourself and think for yourself whatever might be. Just remember, you asked for it."

Kotomine Shirou tilted his head, his curiosity unabated. "Do not worry, I know." With that he approached Lucifer with steady strides and stopped when in front of him.

Lucifer took a second to look at him in the eyes, and seeing that he doesn't seem to have the intention of changing his mind, he sighed internally, before raising his right hand.

Touching Kotomine Shirou's head Lucifer focused on just transferring all his memories by injecting a bit of mana into Kotomine Shirou.

Shirou didn't even have the chance to scream as pain comparable to one's head being split and crushed assaulted his senses from the transfer.

With that, he disappeared as if being disintegrated from the very existence itself.

Lucifer's gaze remained steady as he watched the last flicker of ether making up the Kotomine boy disappear, but his eyes held a hint of sadness. "Curiosity really is a sin. That it would ruin even the greatest of Men."

Aesir, who had been silent for a while, furrowed his brow. "You might be correct, but that doesn't mean that you are right. Isn't curiosity the driving force of progress and evolution? Some might disagree that it is war, but, what started war to begin with?"

Lucifer, still standing in his melancholic expression, shook his head before sporting a wry smile. "Yeah…that might hold some truth, I pray that it wouldn't lead that boy to his ruin."

Shirou looked pensive. "Uh, I guess that happened….

I somehow get the gist of what's happening but. Couldn't he at least introduce himself before leaving like that?"

Now, Archer, Lucifer, Veldaruin, and Aesir glanced at him at the same time.

"...w–what?" Shirou asked, a bit unnerved by the gazes of the four beings in front of him.

Archer, after a moment of silence, shook his head with a sigh of annoyance.

"Ask him next time yourself."

Shirou, not wanting to press any further seeing that they have no intention of explaining things further, reluctantly nodded.

" Then, I will be taking my leave."

As He had conveyed what he needed to convey, he decided to truly leave this time.

" Ah, oh. Yeah take care."

Shirou bid Lucifer farewell as he disappeared.

Standing and still staring at the spot where Lucifer once stood, his mind having a cacophony of thoughts that he failed to notice the shadow approaching from behind.

"...gah! Ow! Ow ow! It hurts!"

Suddenly Crying out in pain as his head was locked in a knuckle sandwich between the fists of Aesir, he struggled in vain as Aesir had no intention of letting go.

" What did I say about not overdoing it huh!"

" Ow! I'm Sorry! I'll be careful next time!" Shirou answered amidst the pain.

For a moment Aesir stopped and released. Shirou thinking it's over, looked up to glance at Aesir with a smile, which cramped up as he saw Aesirs expression.

"... what do you mean next time huh!"

What he saw was the face of a demon with eyes consisting of several blue rings, but what truly unnerved him was the diagonal third crimson eye on its forehead.

" Do you want to die!" Now that demons' hand suddenly grabbed his head in an eagle grip and lifted him like it was nothing.

" ah! It hurts Aesir! Vel–san help me!"

…

Archer and Veldaruin watching the spectacle unfold in front of them in amusement did nothing to placate the enraged high elf for they thought it was a fitting punishment for the hard headed fool.

Veldaruin, shaking his head in exasperation turned to Archer.

" So, what take do you have on that man's"message "?"

Hearing his question, Archer merely gave a shrug.

" Not my problem."

" But isn't it the one that took one of Kotomine boy's life?"

Quirking a brow at Archer's non committal response he shot back.

" then let him deal with it, My Jurisdiction is what the Will only dictates me to. Didn't Lucifer synced with him? And he still has a few left, He'll do just fine. "

Archer's response of dismissal and neutrality quieted the Dragon.

" I suppose…." was the only thing he said after a drawn out silence.

Saying so, he turned back to the surreal sight of the high elf now spanking the boy.

…..

—Lucifer's story something somethin —

Red. It filled Lucifer's vision, painting everything in a ghastly hue. The sky, the ground, the fog – all tainted by the blood of countless beings strewn across the battlefield. Angels, fallen angels, devils, creatures of mythology – their corpses lay scattered everywhere.

His eyes gradually grew blank as the realization of what he had done sank in. He fell to his knees, his armor and sword clanging against the ground, and the one whom he once lovingly called father, now lay In Front of him. Platinum ichor steadily gushed out of the wound in the middle of his chest. His mind finally cleared from his self-induced berserk state. the Almighty, the appearance of the two heavenly dragons, the interference of several pantheons, and the sacrifice of his three beloved.

….

He should have found it odd when the Almighty's power seemed weaker than he remembered. If he still had his full set of fourteen wings and his previous power, he might have matched the Almighty, but not in his nine-winged state. But he ignored it; all he cared about was to kill. If the Almighty was weakened, then he could kill him. But then, several pantheons arrived and attacked his forces.

Then the heavenly dragons appeared, both entangled in a clash of claws, fangs, and fire. Their presence disrupted the delicate balance of the battlefield, slaughtering everything in their vicinity or falling prey to their stray attacks. Many perished; even of his 72 pillars, few remained. Then, the two heavenly dragons disappeared, dragged into a glowing white light by chains of heavenly light. Two spheres of light, one red and one silver, appeared and then shot into the sky, disappearing into the horizon.

Just then, cracks in space manifested above where the two heavenly dragons were sealed. Lucifer saw the Almighty tense. It seemed the Almighty had spent most of his power creating the seal to trap the dragons, which was supposed to seal what was in that crack.

As Lucifer grinned and readied his sword to attack, he felt a pressure on his shoulders that made him tense. His gaze rested on the crack in space, and what he saw chilled him to the bone.

The eyes of a goat , a beast and a dragon, with features from various animals, stared back at him. The creature had seven necks, seven heads, ten horns, and seven long thick tails. It was over several hundred meters tall, dwarfing even the heavenly dragons.

The revelation of what it was rooted him in place, his eyes fixed on the creature. The Almighty and several gods of different pantheons rushed toward the crack, pouring all their power into the light to strengthen it. The light formed chains that encompassed the crack and the being. Then, a massive scaled and furry arm burst through the cracks.

Several gods, Mikha'el, and three other archangels were flung away like ragdolls. Lucifer glanced back to see Amaryllis, Levi, and Zebubra standing with the remaining devil forces. He turned to them and spoke with authority. "Should anyone wish to leave, then do so now." Without waiting for a response, he flew towards the carnage.

Amaryllis, Levi and Zebubra followed without hesitation. Near the crack, they attacked the clawed arm rampaging through the battlefield. The different factions gave them a glance before focusing back on fighting the monsters bellow.

After several hours, the chains of light became blinding. Lucifer spread his darkness over the three to protect them from the Holy light. He turned to the Almighty, then at the crack. Few remained; most had retreated or been killed. The Almighty stood alone, a figure of immense power but visibly weary. Lucifer and everyone knew, that the behemoth inside that crack was a beast of

Just then, Lucifer saw it – an opening. Without a second thought, he charged at the opportunity. Amaryllis, Levi and Zebubra followed, their trust in him absolute. They poured all their remaining power into a concentrated strike.

A combination of holy and demonic energy was hurled towards the beast.

The beast roared in pain as their combined might tore through its flesh, weakened by the constant attacks of their pseudo allies. The cracks in space began to close, the light intensifying as the Almighty poured everything into sealing the breach.

Lucifer fell to his knees, feeling his energy seeped out and seemingly devoured by the beast. He watched as the beast was pulled back into the void. The chains of light tightened, and with a final burst of power, the crack in space sealed shut.

The battlefield was silent. Survivors laid motionless, unconscious either exhausted or as a consequence of the beast devouring their energies.

The Almighty staggered, his form flickering. Lucifer could see the toll the battle had taken on him.

But Lucifer's heart was hollow. He turned, expecting to see Amaryllis, Levi and Zebubra. Instead, he saw their lifeless bodies, struck down by the attack meant for him. They had shielded him with their lives.

"Amaryllis!Levi! Zebubra!"

A roar of rage and sorrow erupted from his throat.

He remembered the exact moment Amaryllis, Levi and Zebubra drew their last breath. They had been at his side, fierce and unyielding. Zebubra, with her burning eyes and unwavering determination, had been the first to see the opening. "Now, Lucifer!" she shouted, charging ahead, her sword blazing with hellfire.

Levi, always the calm strategist, had been right behind him. "We have your back," she had said to Lucifer, her voice steady despite the chaos around them. Her wings spread wide, shimmering with the dark energy that made her one of the most formidable demons.

Meanwhile, Amaryllis focused on defending. Deflecting the bursts of magical energy and the monsters born out of the beast's corruption. Burning them to ashes with her flame.

" Go! We'll deal with the small fries!"

Lucifer had hesitated for a fraction of a second, a moment of dread piercing his resolve. But seeing their determination, he surged forward. Focusing on the beast using the path the three provided him.

Avoiding a god from the Norse pantheon, possibly Thor and Raguel, one of the seraph flung away by the swipe of the gigantic arm. Merely giving them a cursory glance, his eyes narrowed as he approached the area which the torso was supposed to be. There, he saw Micka'el, and Gabriel, bleeding profusely. Bellow, he could see the other seraphs and remaining angels along with the gods of the Egyptian, Sumerian, and several other pantheons trying to deal with the birthed monsters.

They came like the flood which HE and the Sumerian pantheon dictated when they decided that humanity had become too tainted by the devils. Several centuries ago.

The monsters appeared like an amalgamation of several beasts and monsters straight out of a mortal's nightmare.

For now, they are holding their ground. Yet they are gradually being pushed back as casualties and injuries continue to increase.

Micka'el and Gabriel, startled and shocked as they finally recognised him, turned to face him and took a stance.

But he ignored them. Merely passing by the two, not even sparing them a cursory glance.

Gathering his energy, he raised his sword. A surge of light enveloping its entire blade.

Swinging down with a slash, it hit the beast at point blank in an explosion.

Tch!

But it barely reached deep. The wound seemingly inconsequential compared to that of the beast's size.

Flying backwards, he narrowly avoided the swipe of its claws. Unfortunately, Gabriel couldn't dodge in time before she went crashing downwards towards the ground seemingly knocked out. Micka'el flew after her, but as he caught Gabriel and landed on the ground, he failed to notice the monster behind him.

Its appearance resembles that of a giant. Yet, its head is that of an ox, its torso a gorilla, its arms that of a bear, and the lower half of a wolf and the tail of a lizard.

Arriving before the two archangels it raised its massive arms, before bringing it down to their heads.

Micka'el, injured and exhausted, was slow to react. But just as the arms were about to hit them he managed to erect a barrier of light in order to protect them.

But, with the sound of breaking glass. It shattered. But deflecting the arm barely missing the two archangels.

Flung away by the impact, he landed face down. Trying to raise his head, he then saw the monster approaching the fallen figure of Gabriel. The monster raised its arm, claws extended and seemed intent on impaling her with its massive claws.

Everything seemed to slow down for Micka'el, his eyes transfixed before the massive arms descending, unable to do anything with his energy and stamina totally spent. despair overtook him as he could do nothing but watch..

But it never came. his eyes he saw a spear of light clearly nailing the monster to the ground, its head being pierced through, bursting the head and scattering brain matter on the ground.

Unable to believe his eyes, he then traced where the spear of light had come from. Then his eyes widened, before a wave of sleepiness wash over him and then he was unconscious. The last he saw was the back of the man with dark crimson armor and three pairs of black wings. And his long silver hair fluttered in the air.

...

At this time, Amaryllis, Levi and Zebubra arrived.

He glanced at them, and saw them looking at him before nodding.

The three of them had moved as one, a symphony of destruction and vengeance. Their combination of attacks had always struck true.

Amaryllis and Zebubra dealt with the tendrils, meanwhile Levi and Lucifer focused on dealing as much damage as they could.

This went on for several hours.

And for a brief, glorious moment, victory seemed within reach of pushing back the [ ] back to the void to which it would be sealed.

Then it happened. The beast seems finally having been weakened enough. But in final defiance, lashed out with a final, desperate strike. Lucifer saw the claws coming, faster than he could react. He felt the searing heat of the beast's power, the air crackling with energy.

Levi and Zebubra moved without hesitation. They threw themselves in front of Lucifer, their bodies absorbing the full force of the attack. Levi's eyes met Lucifer's for a split second, Zebubra managed a faint smile, her strength waning.

The claws tore through them, their blood mingling with the already crimson ground. They collapsed at Lucifer's feet, their life force draining away.

"No!" Lucifer's scream was a raw, visceral sound, a mix of agony and fury.

But, he was not the only one affected by the event.

Before he could stop her, Amaryllis, with a cry and consumed by rage, flew towards the beast. Her whole body burning with crimson flames headed towards its heads.

Unleashing a barrage of attacks, and with a massive crimson magic circle appeared on her back a torrent of magical energy began converging towards her as an axis.

Lucifer's eyes widened in shock seeing the magic circle.

" Amaryllis! No! STOP!?"

Flying towards her with all the speed he could muster, he tried to stop her from activating it. But, he was still a little too late.

With a burst of explosion he was flung back several kilometers.

With a flap of his wings he managed to steady himself, he hurriedly turned to look towards Amaryllis and the beast.

Amaryllis hovered before the beast, her form now twisted into something otherworldly. Gone was her former beauty, replaced by a flaming silhouette of a woman. Her eyes glowed like smoldering embers, and her mouth formed a crescent slit lined with razor-sharp teeth. Three horns jutted from her head, accompanied by demonic wings that flared behind her. A reptilian tail, barbed at the end, swayed menacingly. Crowning her head was a ring of crimson flames, completing the terrifying transformation.

--

With a primal roar, Amaryllis lashed out like a wounded beast, her claws ripping into the lion-like head, tearing out one of its eyes in a spray of blood. The creature howled in pain, but she was relentless. She bit, clawed, and hurled blazing torrents of crimson fire at the surrounding heads, her fury unrestrained.

She raised her hand, summoning a colossal sphere of flames, its heat distorting the air around her. But just as she prepared to bring it crashing down, a maw snapped shut around her arm with crushing force. It was the dragon head, its fangs sinking deep, devouring both flame and flesh.

Everything happened within the span of a second.

…

Lucifer, flying faster than he ever had, arrived just in time to witness the horror unfold. His heart dropped as he watched the dragon's jaws crush her arm, fireball and all. His rage ignited, and without thinking, he conjured spears of light, hurling them toward the beast. He knew it would be in vain, knew it wouldn't be enough—but he had to try, praying that it would release her.

The spears tore through the dragon's scales, shattering them, ripping out flesh and blood. But the dragon head refused to let go, its teeth still sinking deeper into her.

Then, with brutal force, the goat head charged. Its horns speared through her body—piercing her chest, abdomen, and thighs. The impact was savage, the pain unbearable. It retracted only when struck by the last of Lucifer's light spears, but the damage was done. The dragon head reared back, taking her arm with it in a sickening spray of blood.

Amaryllis, now free, began to fall, her body limp as it plummeted to the ground, leaving a trail of crimson in the air.

Lucifer, barely able to contain his despair, dove after her. His wings beat with desperate fury as he caught her midair. She had reverted to her human form, but her body was broken, her strength fading. Landing beside where Levi and Zebubra had fallen, Lucifer knelt, trembling, cradling her fragile body in his arms.

He looked down at them—his comrades, his beloveds—shattered and bleeding. His voice broke as he whispered, "Amaryllis… Levi… Zebubra..."

Levi's breathing was shallow, her words barely more than a gasp. "My love... I'm glad," she whispered, her voice already fading.

Zebubra's eyes fluttered open one last time, her lips forming her final words. "...ve you... always," she murmured, as her life slipped away.

While, Amaryllis laid there, silent as her life snuffed out of her the moment the horns had pierced her.

Lucifer clutched them tighter, his heart fracturing with every second. He had led them into this war, and now, because of him, they lay dying in his arms. He could feel their warmth fading, their bodies growing cold.

For a moment, he wanted to crumble, to let the crushing weight of grief and guilt drag him into oblivion. But as he gazed at their serene faces, now at peace in death, something in him refused to yield. They had fought for him, sacrificed everything for him, for their shared cause. To honor their memory, he could not fall—not now.

With trembling limbs, Lucifer rose, his breath ragged with grief. His gaze fell upon the Almighty in the distance—having completely sealed the beast and mended the crack in space. Their eyes met.

A surge of white-hot fury overtook him. All the pain, all the sorrow, coiled into a single blinding rage. Without thinking, Lucifer moved—faster than thought itself—appearing before the Almighty in an instant. His sword plunged into the Almighty's chest with terrifying force, the act cold and merciless, driven by the raw agony of loss.

The Almighty gasped, eyes widening in shock. But there was no anger, no resistance—only sorrow. His trembling hand reached out, brushing gently against Lucifer's cheek, fingers warm and tender. "My son…" he whispered, his voice laced with an unbearable sadness, a love that pierced through the darkness. His eyes, soft with regret, bore into Lucifer's soul.

Lucifer's breath caught, the warmth of the Almighty's touch freezing him in place. He felt the tender caress against his tear-streaked face, and the rage in his heart began to unravel. The Almighty's hand lingered, shaking, before slowly falling away, lifeless.

The Almighty's body slumped, collapsing at Lucifer's feet. His lips, even in death, held a faint, melancholic smile—a reminder of a bond once sacred, now shattered beyond repair.

Lucifer stood frozen, his mind a storm of devastation. He had slain his creator, the one who had once been his father. The weight of his actions crashed over him, suffocating him in a tidal wave of guilt, regret, and sorrow.

He stared at his blood-soaked hands, trembling as he realized what he had done. The grief that had consumed him moments before was now magnified a hundredfold. In his thirst for vengeance, he had brought nothing but more death, more loss.

Lucifer collapsed to his knees beside the Almighty's body, his sobs tearing through him. Tears poured down his face as he cradled his head in his hands, the blood of his maker still warm on his skin.

"Father…" he choked, his voice breaking, his soul crumbling. "What have I done?"

The battlefield was eerily silent, the echoes of battle faded into nothingness. The weight of Lucifer's actions bore down on him like a crushing burden. Scattered among the debris were the few survivors, unconscious and broken. The once-mighty legions that had followed him into countless battles were now reduced to lifeless forms strewn across the desolate plain. He was the last one standing, a shattered figure, cradling the body of the Almighty.

Lucifer's mind was a maelstrom of memories and emotions, swirling together in a storm of regret. The image of the Almighty's sad smile haunted him, the love in those eyes cutting deeper than any blade. He had fought, not just an enemy, but the demons within his own soul. The rage that had driven him, the thirst for power and vengeance, now seemed hollow in the face of all he had lost.

He had sought to destroy his enemies, to claim victory at any cost, but now he stood amidst the ruins of his own making. His loved ones were gone, ripped from him by the very conflict he had fueled. And now, in his final act of defiance, he had slain his father, the one who had once held him as the Morning Star. The realization was suffocating, an abyss of despair that threatened to swallow him whole.

But as he knelt there, broken and weeping, a flicker of clarity pierced through his anguish. The Almighty's final moments had not been filled with hatred or wrath, but with love and sorrow. That sad smile and gentle caress were not just gestures of forgiveness—they were a final bond, transcending the hatred and strife that had torn them apart. A bond that, in death, could not be severed.

Slowly, painfully, Lucifer forced himself to stand. His body trembled with the effort, every movement a reminder of the pain that wracked his soul. He gazed across the battlefield, once a scene of unimaginable violence, now a graveyard of silence and death—a testament to the cost of their struggle.

His eyes turned to the heavens, where the light from the sealed crack was beginning to fade, leaving the world in growing darkness. He could feel the weight of his sins pressing down on him, each one a heavy chain dragging him closer to despair.

He turned his gaze to the bodies of his three beloveds, their forms still and cold. He knelt beside them one last time, his voice barely a whisper as he made a silent promise—a vow to carry their memory with him, to never forget the sacrifices they had made for him.

Rising once more, Lucifer looked down at the Almighty's lifeless form, his heart a tumult of emotions. He had hated him, sought his destruction with every fiber of his being, but in the end, all he found was sorrow and a deeper understanding of their connection. The battle had been won, but the victory felt like ashes in his mouth.

With a final, sorrowful glance at the scene of carnage, Lucifer turned away. The Morning Star, once the proud firstborn of the Lord, the undisputed ruler of the underworld, now walked forward burdened by grief and regret. The weight of his sins—those of this battle and countless others—hung heavily on his shoulders. But he carried on, each step taking him further from the battlefield, from the life he had known, and deeper into the darkness of his own making.

In the days that followed the Almighty's death, Lucifer vanished from the world. He took with him the bodies of Amaryllis, Levi, and Zebubra, along with Excalibur, the symbol of the Almighty's authority. The battlefield, once filled with the deafening roar of clashing forces and divine powers, was now shrouded in an eerie silence. The survivors, left to pick up the pieces of their shattered world, found themselves adrift in a reality forever altered.

Mikha'el and the remaining archangels, weary and battered from the battle, discovered the body of the Almighty. With heavy hearts and reverent care, they lifted him from the ground and bore him to the 7th layer of Heaven. There, in a place of sacred tranquility, they prepared him for burial. They swore an oath of secrecy, vowing that the knowledge of the Almighty's death would remain hidden from the world. To reveal such a truth would bring chaos and despair; they resolved to protect the heavens and earth from such a fate.

Meanwhile, in the underworld, the devils who had survived the slaughter returned with the dire news. They spoke in hushed, fearful tones of the deaths of Lucifer and the three great demon lords. The news spread like wildfire through the dark realms, casting a pall of despair and uncertainty over the demonic legions. The four great demon lords were gone, and with them, their sense of purpose and direction.

The underworld descended into chaos and grief. Power struggles erupted as lesser devils and ambitious warlords vied for control in the vacuum left by the fallen demon lords. The once-unified devil forces splintered and fractured, the delicate balance of power disintegrating without the guidance of their leaders.

Amidst the turmoil, in the deepest recesses of the underworld, a man—once an angel, now fallen—stood alone, his expression one of profound grief. His plans had unraveled in the most catastrophic way, and the torrent of emotions within him was unbearable. He had never imagined that his schemes would lead to the Almighty's fall.

For a long time, he wept, blaming himself for what had transpired. But he knew, deep down, that his tears would not bring back the life of his creator. And so, with a heart heavy with regret, he disappeared into the shadows, his grief a constant companion, his guilt a burden he would carry for eternity.

Azazel, still reeling from the aftermath of the war, lay in his bed, his body battered and his mind a whirl of chaotic thoughts. He had fought alongside the fallen angels, standing against the angels of heaven who they once called brothers and sisters and the might of warriors and gods from different pantheons. The battlefield had been a nightmare, a place where the lines between friend and foe blurred, and where survival became the only goal.

In the midst of the chaos, the two heavenly dragons had appeared, their power disrupting the flow of the battle. Just as quickly as they had come, they were gone, leaving behind an eerie silence that was soon shattered by the arrival of the beast—a monstrous entity that tore through the fabric of reality itself. The battlefield had descended into madness, with Azazel finding himself fighting not only against former comrades but against creatures from nightmares.

The last thing he remembered before everything went dark was the scaled claw of the beast, descending upon him with terrifying speed. The world had gone black, and he had been consumed by unconsciousness.

When he awoke, the scene before him was one of horror and disbelief. Micka'el and Gabriel stood before him, their expressions grim as they carried the lifeless body of the Almighty. The sight struck Azazel like a physical blow, a deep shock that left him reeling. How had it come to this? The being who had once been their creator, their guide, was now gone, and the heavens would never be the same.

Back in the present, as he lay on his bed, Azazel's brows furrowed in deep contemplation. His thoughts were a tangled web of confusion and unanswered questions. How had the Almighty died? Where were Lucifer and his consorts? What was the true nature of the beast that had emerged from the crack in reality?

These questions gnawed at him, but there was one truth that weighed more heavily than the rest: the death of the Almighty. The knowledge of this terrible loss was a burden that Azazel knew he would carry to the grave. The implications of revealing such a truth were too dire to contemplate, and so he resolved to keep the secret, no matter the cost.

As he stared up at the ceiling, his mind churned with unresolved thoughts. The war had changed everything, and the future was now uncertain. But one thing was clear—nothing would ever be the same again.

———

———

Far from the turmoil, hidden in a place known only to him, Lucifer mourned in solitude. The bodies of Lilith, Amaryllis, Levi, and Zebubra he personally laid to rest. He had chosen this isolation, not only to grieve but also to contemplate his actions and the path that lay ahead. The weight of his decisions and the loss of those he loved bore heavily upon him. He remembered the moments they had shared, the battles fought side by side, and the love the four of them shared.

Lucifer's grief was profound and all-consuming. He replayed the events leading to their deaths over and over in his mind, each time finding new ways to blame himself. The image of the Almighty's sad, forgiving smile haunted him, a stark reminder of his impulsive rage and the irreversible consequences of his actions. He had killed the one whom he had once called father even if that very father was the one that casted him out of his kingdom that fact cannot be changed, and in doing so, had lost not only his family but also a part of himself.

As the days turned into weeks and then months, Lucifer remained hidden. The world above and below speculated about his fate, but no one could confirm his existence. To some, he became a myth, a cautionary tale of ambition and revenge. To others, he was a symbol of strength and defiance, a reminder of the eternal struggle between light and darkness.

In the 7th layer of Heaven, Home to the Sacred Gear System, and God's System. Also, where the almighty once resided when he was alive. In a tomb of celestial light the Almighty was laid to rest. His passing was mourned in silence, his legacy preserved by those who had served him. The archangels took on the mantle of leadership, guiding the heavens in his stead and striving to maintain the balance he had fought to protect. They faced a monumental task, for the Almighty had been a unifying force, and without him, even Heaven would be consumed with the tremors of uncertainty.

And so, the world continued, forever altered by the events of that fateful battle. The scars of loss and sacrifice remained, etched into the hearts of those who had survived.

In the underworld, the power vacuum left by Lucifer and his generals created a volatile landscape. Former allies turned on each other, seeking to claim dominion over the fractured realms. The chaos bred new alliances and rivalries, reshaping the very fabric of devil society. Some demons sought to preserve Lucifer's vision of strength and rule, while others pursued their own ambitions, driven by greed and the thirst for power.

Lucifer, in his solitude, watched from the shadows. He observed the turmoil that had engulfed the underworld, feeling a mix of sorrow and resignation. He knew that his absence had created a void, one that could not easily be filled. Yet, he also knew that his presence would only rekindle the flames of conflict.

The archangels, too, grappled with the new reality. They worked tirelessly to maintain the order that the Almighty had established, but they could not escape the shadow of his loss. Mikha'el, in particular, struggled with the burden of leadership. He sought to uphold the principles of justice and mercy, even as he faced growing dissent and uncertainty among the heavenly hosts.

In the end, the legacy of that fateful battle transcended the boundaries of Heaven and Hell. It became a story of loss and tragedy, of power and responsibility, and of the enduring human—or in this case, divine—struggle to find meaning in the face of unimaginable grief. Lucifer, the fallen angel who had once sought to conquer Heaven, found himself on a path of redemption, driven by the memories of those he had loved and lost.

The world above, below and the in-between continued to evolve, shaped by the echoes of that great conflict. And through it all, the story of that war endured, a testament to the darkest history of all the factions of the world.

………

For centuries, the underworld's civil war raged on. The royalists, loyal to the old ways and the legacy of Lucifer, clashed violently against the new demons who desired to reform the underworld and make it a better place for all its inhabitants. This struggle for dominance and ideology fragmented the realms, casting long shadows of strife and uncertainty.

Amid this relentless conflict, Lucifer had chosen a different path. He had retreated to the human realm, far from the infernal chaos that once defined his existence. Nestled within the serene outskirts of Albion, he found solace and a measure of peace. Here, he lived quietly among the fae, hidden from the eyes of those who sought him. The tranquil waters of the lake became his sanctuary, and the lady of the lake, a fae or water nymph, offered him companionship and understanding.

The humans, with their rich lore and legends, revered the lady of the lake, calling her the guardian of Avalon. To them, she was a mystical figure, a keeper of ancient wisdom and magic. For Lucifer, she was a friend and a confidant, someone who understood the weight of his past and the burdens he carried. Her presence was a balm to his weary soul, a reminder that even in the darkest times, there could be moments of grace and beauty.

In this hidden haven, Lucifer spent his days in quiet reflection. The events of the past haunted him, but they also shaped his resolve. He had witnessed the devastation of war, the pain of loss, and the consequences of unchecked ambition. The deaths of Lilith, Amaryllis, Levi, and Zebubra remained fresh in his memory, a constant reminder of the price of his rage and the sacrifices they had made.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and cast a golden glow over the lake, the lady of the lake emerged from the water, her ethereal form shimmering in the fading light. She approached Lucifer, her eyes filled with a knowing sadness.

"How have you been, my dear," she said softly, her voice like the gentle ripple of water. "Does the past still haunt you?"

Lucifer sighed, unimaginable weight evident in his gaze. "I have made too many mistakes, caused too much pain. How can I find redemption when I have brought so much darkness into the world?"

The lady of the lake placed a delicate hand on his arm. "Redemption is not a destination, but a journey. It is found in the choices you make, in the kindness you show, and in the wisdom you gain. You have the power to shape your own destiny, Dear."

Her words failed to reach his heart. But, it wasn't futile, for the Fae could see that the man broken beyond repair was slowly but surely picking the pieces back together. She would do her best to pick them up alongside him, even if the effort itself is fraught with difficulties. He had spent so long running from his past, but perhaps it was time to confront it, to find a way to heal the wounds he had inflicted upon himself.

The days of the Fallen Angel and the Fae continued in monotony. He helped the fae in her tasks. He listened to the stories of the humans who visited the lake, offering guidance and solace when needed. Slowly, he started to rebuild a sense of purpose, one rooted in compassion and understanding.

Yet, the underworld's turmoil was never far from his mind. Reports of the ongoing civil war reached him even in this secluded realm. The royalists and the new devils continued their fierce struggle, the balance of power shifting back and forth with each passing year. The underworld cried out for a leader, someone who could bring peace and unity to its fractured realms.

One moonlit night, as he stood by the edge of the lake, he decided his time as a monarch had already passed.

Then, as one of the chains binding his soul be undone, he sensed the presence of a visitor.

The lady of the lake joined him, sensing the Unusual visitor.

The one hailed as the court Magician of the house Pendragon.

And the one who prophesied the advent of the Future King of Britain, Merlin Ambrosius.

……

The arrival of the magician stirred something within Lucifer, a sense of familiarity and intrigue. As the daughter of a descendant of the Ambrosius clan, a clan of succubus and Incubus, her lineage carried weight and significance for him. Yet, it was her role as the court mage for the king of Albion, Uther Pendragon, that piqued his interest.

Merlin, as she introduced herself, possessed a rare blend of wisdom and power, her eyes betraying depths of knowledge, knowledge pertaining that of the future. She sought the lady of the lake's counsel on matters of great importance, her demeanor grave and earnest.

Lucifer observed from a distance, drawn to the conversation unfolding between the two women. He had long been fascinated by the intricate web of human affairs, and Merlin's presence hinted at a convergence of destinies that intrigued him.

As the discussion progressed, it became clear that Merlin sought assistance on a pressing matter that threatened the stability of the kingdom. The Rebellion of the King's Brother is imminent and it will plunge the kingdom in turmoil and Merlin sought a way to navigate the delicate politics and dark magic that surrounded the situation.

The lady of the lake listened intently, her serene presence a comforting anchor amidst the storm of uncertainty. She offered words of wisdom and insight, guiding Merlin, and agreed to take in Morgana to protect her from the coming turmoil.

Lucifer watched in silence, his thoughts turning over the implications of Merlin's story. As the conversation drew to a close, Merlin thanked the lady of the lake for her counsel, her expression a mix of determination and resolve. She turned to leave, her steps purposeful and confident.

It was then that Lucifer stepped forward, his presence a silent invitation for Merlin to acknowledge him. She paused, her gaze meeting his, and for a fleeting moment, there was recognition in her eyes.

"You are not of this world," she said, her voice carrying a note of curiosity.

Lucifer inclined his head in puzzlement but then realization dawned on him ' did she?...'

Not sure what her question meant, he chose to remain silent.

But Merlin didn't linger for long, after wishing them a pleasant farewell she left, more lively than when she arrived. But not before addressing Lancelot.

" King Pelles of the north. Sephiroth Graal, It's chosen protector." Her words brought a wave of disbelief within Lucifer. 'How did she!'

But he didn't voice his question, contemplating her implied words. He Merely watched as Merlin departed, her footsteps echoing into the distance, another visitor arrived on the shores of Avalon. Morgan, apprentice to Merlin, her presence shrouded in mystery and intrigue, bore a striking resemblance to Lilith, the woman who held a special place in Lucifer's heart.

At first glance, Lucifer welcomed Morgan with open arms, drawn to her likeness to his lost love. He offered her guidance and counsel, unaware of the darkness that lurked within her soul.

For 10 years, Morgan remained in Avalon, her thirst for knowledge insatiable as she absorbed the ancient wisdom of the lady of the lake. Yet beneath her facade of humility and obedience, a sinister plot began to take shape, fueled by ambition and desire.

Unknown to Lucifer, Morgan harbored her own agenda, a web of deceit and manipulation that threatened to unravel the very fabric of destiny. She sought to harness the power of Avalon for her own gain, heedless of the consequences that would follow.

As the years passed, Lucifer watched from the shadows, his feelings growing with each passing day. He sensed the darkness that clung to Morgan's soul, a shadowy veil that threatened to consume her from within.

When her training was complete, Morgan departed, her ambitions set on manipulating the destiny of Albion to her advantage. Lucifer, oblivious to the seeds of darkness he had unwittingly nurtured, returned to his life by the lake in the company of the Fae.

….

Years had passed since Merlin's last visit to the shores of Avalon as well as Morgan's departure, yet the memory of her presence lingered like a whisper in the wind. As the seasons waxed and waned, the lady of the lake remained vigilant, her timeless gaze fixed upon the ever-shifting currents of fate.

It was on a day much like any other that Merlin returned, her demeanor bearing the weight of momentous tidings. The air crackled with anticipation as she approached the shores, her cloak billowing behind her like the wings of a raven.

"Great lady of the lake," Merlin's voice carried across the water, imbued with a sense of urgency, "I come bearing news of a prophecy long foretold."

The lady of the lake, her form shimmering with an ethereal light, regarded Merlin with a knowing gaze. "Speak, child." she said, her voice a melody that echoed across the waters.

Merlin's words flowed like a river, weaving a tale of betrayal and redemption, of a rightful king born amidst the chaos of a fractured kingdom. Vortigern, the usurper, had seized the throne of Albion, yet the promised king had survived, hidden away in the care of Uther's most loyal knight.

"I ask for his protection " Merlin implored, her eyes shining with determination. "Only until he is fit to take on the mantle of a king, should he choose to pull the sword from the stone."

The lady of the lake nodded solemnly, her commitment unwavering. "I shall do as you ask, in accordance with the oath," she replied, her voice echoing with the weight of destiny. "He shall be hidden from the gazes that hold malice, the wind and water shall aid him. But, know that the path ahead is fraught with peril, and the forces of darkness will stop at nothing to see their ambitions realized."

Thirteen years had passed since Merlin's last visit, and thirteen Years had passed since the tumultuous events that had seen Vortigern seize the throne of Albion, and Uther Pendragon's rightful heir hidden away by his loyal knight sir Ector de Maris. The whispers of a promised king who would unite Britain had grown louder, and finally, that day had come.

Arthur, the hidden king, pulled the sword from the stone, a feat that no other could accomplish. With that act, he fulfilled the prophecy and was crowned the rightful ruler of Britain. The land rejoiced, for hope had been restored.

…..

For a year and a half, King Arthur ruled with wisdom and valor, defending the isles of Britain from invaders and bringing a semblance of peace to a war-torn land, having been able to also win the king of Orkney and Lothian into his subordinate with the help of his sister Morgause. His reign was marked by justice, honor, and the unyielding pursuit of a united Britain. But destiny, ever fickle, had other plans.

During a fierce duel, the sword that had marked his ascension shattered. The blade, symbolic of his right to rule, lay in pieces, leaving Arthur momentarily bereft of his most potent symbol of authority and strength.

In search of guidance, Merlin, Arthur's trusted advisor, led him to the shores of Avalon, to seek the counsel of the lady of the lake. As they arrived, the air shimmered with enchantment, and the waters glowed with an ethereal light.

….

Lucifer, who had long resided in the tranquil domain of the lady of the lake, observed Arthur with a sense of profound nostalgia. The young king bore a striking resemblance to Adam, Lucifer's dearest friend from a bygone era.

The sight stirred memories of a time before the fall, of a friendship forged in the light of Eden, and of a bond that had once transcended the boundaries of celestial duty. The resemblance was uncanny, and for a moment, Lucifer felt the weight of ages lift from his shoulders, replaced by a fleeting sense of hope.

Listening to Arthur's plight, Lucifer understood the significance of the broken sword. It was not merely a weapon but a symbol of the king's right to rule, his promise to his people, and his connection to the prophecy. With a sense of destiny, Lucifer decided it was time to bestow upon Arthur a weapon befitting his station.

His vast amount of Holy Power emanating from within him along with the Mystery of the Isle seeping out of him, spoke volumes of his destiny.

He approached the lady of the lake, Excalibur in hand, the legendary sword forged in the fires of divine power. The lady, understanding the gravity of the moment, accepted the sword from Lucifer and presented it to Arthur.

As Arthur grasped Excalibur, a sense of renewal washed over him. The blade was unlike any other, its edge gleaming with an inner light that spoke of power and promise. With this sword, he felt the weight of his destiny reaffirmed and his purpose renewed.

The lady of the lake spoke, her voice a melodious echo across the waters. "This sword, Excalibur, is a gift from the Almighty. Wield it with honor, King Arthur, and may it guide you to victory and justice."

Arthur bowed, his gratitude evident in his eyes. "I shall wield Excalibur in the service of my people and my kingdom. Thank you, great lady of the lake."

…..

As Arthur prepared to leave, the lady of the lake had one more piece of advice. "The king seeks brave and noble knights to join him in his quest for a united Britain. I have someone in mind, a warrior of great skill and honor."

Despite his reluctance, Vivian urged him. Lucifer stepped forward, his form cloaked in the guise of Lancelot Du lac, the fae knight. " My name is Lancelot. As long as your ideals hold true, then my sword shall carve the way for your victory."

Arthur regarded Lancelot with a mixture of curiosity and respect. "Then join me, Lancelot, and together we shall forge a kingdom that will stand the test of time."

….

Under the banner of King Arthur, Lancelot, the fae knight, took his place among the ranks of the Round Table. His wisdom and prowess in battle quickly earned him a place of honor and trust. Yet, beneath the guise of Lancelot, Lucifer's mind often wandered to the past, to memories of a different life and a different world.

As the kingdom of Camelot flourished, Lucifer found solace in his new purpose. The battles fought alongside Arthur and the camaraderie shared with the knights of the Round Table offered him a semblance of redemption.

…..

In the years that followed, Camelot became a beacon of hope and justice. King Arthur's reign was marked by prosperity, unity, and the pursuit of noble ideals. The legend of Excalibur grew, and the tales of the promised king and his knight's valor were sung by bards across the land.

Yet, even as the light of Camelot shone brightly, shadows lingered on the horizon. Morgan, the dark sorceress, bided her time, her ambitions ever growing. The stage was set for a clash of titanic forces, a struggle that would test the very foundations of the kingdom.

…..

After becoming one of Arthur's most trusted knights, Lucifer, under the guise of Lancelot, witnessed the king's marriage to Guinevere, the daughter of Leodegrance of Cameliard. The union was celebrated with great joy and hope for the future of Camelot. Guinevere's resemblance to Eva, Adam's other half, struck Lucifer deeply. Her grace and kindness reminded him of a time long past once more, when the world was innocent and free from the taint of war and betrayal.

Arthur and Guinevere's reign ushered in a period of unprecedented peace and prosperity. The knights of the Round Table upheld the ideals of chivalry, justice, and unity. Camelot flourished, becoming a beacon of hope in a turbulent world.

…..

Camelot thrived under the just rule of Arthur and the wise counsel of his knights.

It was also within this time that a woman approached him at his side was a young boy with Silver hair, with oceanic blue eyes that resembled his mother.

The boy's name was Galahad.

…

After the wedding of Arthur and Guinevere, Lancelot found himself increasingly restless. His feelings for the queen, though unspoken, had grown into an insurmountable burden. Desperate for a distraction, he recalled the words of Merlin, who had once spoken of a distant land in the North—Corbenic, the realm of King Pelles.

As Lancelot journeyed northward, his mind was occupied with thoughts of Guinevere and his sense of guilt. He also considered the sacred artifact he carried, the Sephiroth Graal, an object tied to a profound sacrifice. Lancelot felt unworthy to hold it, and the weight of its history troubled him deeply. As much as he desired to return to Camelot, he knew that he needed time to confront his own demons.

After days of travel, he arrived at the gates of Corbenic Castle. The structure loomed before him, its towers stretching skyward as if in prayer. As Lancelot approached, a man with regal bearing stood waiting, a crown upon his head, signaling his status.

"Welcome, Sir Lancelot," the man greeted with warmth, his voice filled with a sense of anticipation. "I am Pelles, King of this realm. You are expected."

Lancelot was surprised by the king's words. "Expected?" he echoed, unsure of what this could mean.

"It was foretold," Pelles said with a knowing smile. He led Lancelot through the grand halls of the castle, which were steeped in ancient secrets and a palpable sense of the divine. The king brought him to a finely furnished parlor and invited him to sit and rest.

As they spoke, Lancelot hinted at the burden of a relic —the Sephiroth Graal—crafted by the sacrifice of a man, a martyr and a saint. He refrained from revealing its full origin, but the weight of its history was clear.

King Pelles, sensing Lancelot's inner turmoil, spoke with gentle wisdom. "The artifact's safeguarding is meant for another, one who will come from my own line. The time is not yet right, but that time is near."

That night, Lancelot was given a chamber to rest in. Exhausted, he fell into a deep sleep, only to be visited by a vision in his dreams. A maiden of ethereal beauty, her face kind yet sorrowful, called out to him. Her words were unclear, leaving Lancelot with a sense of longing and confusion.

When he awoke, Lancelot learned that the maiden in his dream was Elaine, the daughter of King Pelles. She had long harbored a deep love for him, her heart touched by tales of his valor. It had been prophesied that she would bear a child by the greatest knight of the realm, and Pelles, knowing of this, had awaited Lancelot's arrival.

At first, Lancelot was unaware of Elaine's true identity or her feelings for him. She approached him in disguise, pretending to be Guinevere, whom she knew held some significance in Lancelot's heart, thanks to a prophecy that revealed his deepest emotions.

In the darkness of night, Lancelot, believing that Guinevere had come to him, succumbed to the illusion. It was only the next morning that he realized—he had been deceived by the magic of Corbenic and by Elaine's desperate love. Though angered at first, Lancelot's heart softened when he saw the sincerity in Elaine's eyes and recognized the depth of her feelings.

Despite the deception, Lancelot forgave her. He came to care for Elaine, though the memories of his lost loves still haunted him. Their union resulted in the birth of Galahad, a child prophesied to become the purest and most noble knight, destined to achieve the Grail Quest.

Lancelot decided to keep the truth of his lineage secret, protecting his son from the heavy burdens of his past and sealing that part of his son. Though torn by his emotions, Lancelot accepted his role in Galahad's life, knowing that his son was destined for greatness even without his blood.

Lancelot's time in Corbenic brought him both peace and pain. The adventure he sought had led him to a new purpose, yet the experience deepened the complexity of his heart's desires. He remained conflicted about the artifact, unsure if he should reveal its location or let fate guide its discovery. Nevertheless, his time with Elaine and the birth of Galahad marked a new chapter in his life—one that would intertwine with the fates of Camelot and the knights of the Round Table.

….

Lancelot, though torn by his emotions, accepted his role in Galahad's life, knowing that his son was destined for greatness.

Lancelot's time in Corbenic brought him both peace and pain. He had found solace in the adventure he sought, but the experience also deepened the complexity of his heart's desires. The Sephiroth Graal, the symbol of divine grace, he was conflicted if he should reveal where he had hidden it or let fate play out as it should, yet his time with Elaine and the birth of Galahad marked the beginning of a new chapter in his life—one that would be defined by both his respect to Arthur, feelings for Guinevere and his son's quest for the ultimate divine truth.

Thus, Lancelot's journey to Corbenic was not just an escape, but a fateful encounter with destiny that would shape the future of Camelot and the legacy of the knights of the Round Table.

--

Lancelot returned to Camelot, and years later came Galahad, who had grown into a young man of exceptional virtue and strength. Galahad was soon knighted and joined the ranks of the Round Table, bringing a new sense of hope to the kingdom.

However, the peace that had settled over Camelot was fragile. The revelation of Arthur's illegitimate son, Mordred, sent shockwaves through the realm. Mordred, conceived after Arthur ascended to the throne, was a stark reminder of the king's past. The knights whispered among themselves, and unease settled over Camelot. Mordred's mother was none other than Morgan le Fay, a powerful sorceress and Arthur's sister, whom Lancelot had once taught, mistaking her for a reflection of his lost love, Lilith.

Lancelot, deeply troubled by the revelation, sought to understand the truth about Mordred's lineage. When he learned that Morgan was indeed Mordred's mother, he was consumed with disbelief and guilt. The woman he had once nurtured and believed in had become the source of Camelot's darkest threat.

As the days turned into nights, Lancelot struggled with his emotions. He felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility and sorrow. He had inadvertently allowed darkness to grow within Morgan, believing she was a vessel of light and hope. Now, her actions threatened to undo everything Arthur had built.

Seeing Lancelot's despondency, Queen Guinevere sought to console him. She found him in the gardens of Camelot, where he often went to find solace.

"Lancelot," she said softly, placing a gentle hand on his arm, "What troubles you so deeply? Please, share it with me."

Lancelot looked into her eyes, seeing the compassion and understanding that mirrored Eve's long-forgotten gaze. He sighed deeply, the weight of his guilt pressing down upon him.

"My Queen," he began, his voice tinged with regret, "I have made many mistakes in my past, errors that now threaten the peace we have fought so hard to achieve. Morgan… She was once dear to me. I thought I could guide her, but I was blind to the darkness in her heart."

Guinevere's eyes widened with understanding. "Lancelot, you have always acted with the best intentions. We cannot always foresee the paths others will take, despite our efforts. You are not to blame for her choices."

Her words, though kind, did little to lift the heavy shroud of guilt from Lancelot's heart. He knew that the impending conflict with Mordred and Morgan would test the very foundations of Camelot. The peace they had enjoyed was under threat, and he feared that his past would once again lead to devastation.

--

As Guinevere and Lancelot spent more time together, their bond deepened. The queen, troubled by Arthur's infidelity and her own inability to conceive an heir, found solace in Lancelot's company. Their shared moments in the gardens became a refuge for both, though neither openly acknowledged the emotions that began to simmer beneath the surface.

Mordred, ever watchful and filled with darkness, sought ways to sow discord upon the kingdom. One day, as he walked through the gardens, he saw them sitting together, their conversation punctuated by laughter and shared smiles. A surge of joy coursed through him as he found the perfect opportunity. He immediately reported his observations to Morgan.

Morgan, always scheming, saw an opportunity to further her plans. She knew that the bond between Guinevere and Lancelot could be exploited to sow discord within Camelot. With her manipulative skills, she devised a plan that would bring about the downfall of her enemies, unaware that Lancelot du Lac was, in truth, Lucifer himself.

--

As Mordred grew, so did the tension within Camelot. A young man of great charisma and skill, Mordred's ambitions were shadowed by the resentment he harbored toward his father. Mordred felt denied his rightful place, and Morgan, ever the manipulative sorceress, fueled his anger and desire for power.

Lancelot watched Mordred closely, recognizing both his potential and the seeds of destruction sown by Morgan. The kingdom was divided, with some knights questioning Arthur's decisions and others remaining steadfast in their loyalty.

Lancelot identified several knights as potential threats, including Sir Agravain, the second son of King Lot and Lady Morgause, Arthur's sister. Though unsure about the other three siblings, he knew caution was necessary. Mordred, too, remained a source of concern, his presence a constant reminder of the danger that lurked within Camelot's walls.

….

Arthur, torn between his duty as king and his love for his son, struggled with the revelations. He sought counsel from Merlin, who remained a guiding force, and from Lancelot, whose wisdom had always been a cornerstone of his reign.

"Lancelot, Merlin." Arthur said one evening, as they stood overlooking the battlements of Camelot, "I fear that my past actions have come to haunt me. How can I lead my kingdom when my own blood threatens to tear it apart?"

Lucifer looked at Arthur, seeing the weight of leadership pressing down on him, remained silent, knowing how things went when he had ruled in the past.

Instead, it was Merlin who spoke.

"My king, you have always sought justice and unity. You must continue to lead with the same principles that have guided you thus far. Mordred's anger is a reflection of the pain and confusion of a young man seeking his place in the world. Perhaps there is a way to reach him, to show him the path of righteousness."

Arthur nodded, though his expression remained troubled. "I pray that you are right, Merlin. For the sake of Camelot, and our 'Avalon'."

As the days passed, Lancelot found himself increasingly conflicted. The secrets he held, the past he could not escape, and the future that loomed before him weighed heavily on his mind. The peace of Camelot was unraveling, and Lancelot knew that the time for reckoning was fast approaching.

A grand celebration was held in Camelot, a feast to honor the kingdom's achievements and the unity of the knights. The hall was filled with music, laughter, and the clinking of goblets as wine flowed freely. Lancelot, caught up in the revelry, drank more than he intended. The warmth of the wine and the camaraderie of his fellow knights dulled his usually sharp senses.

As the night wore on, Lancelot grew increasingly disoriented. He eventually stumbled back to his chambers, his mind clouded by the effects of the alcohol. He did not notice the subtle machinations at play, nor the presence of unseen eyes watching his every move.

…..

Meanwhile, Morgan had been working her dark magic. She had subtly reinforced Guinevere's feelings for Lancelot, amplifying her desires and clouding her judgment. Guinevere, already vulnerable and emotionally strained, found it difficult to resist the pull of her enhanced emotions.

And Lancelot, drunk and trusting, didn't notice as Tristan wore a guilty and conflicted expression as he handed him a drink. It might be A toast for the kingdom's peace and prosperity. But it would bring nothing but the start of chaos and destruction.

As the celebration continued in the great hall, Guinevere felt an irresistible urge to seek out Lucifer. Her heart pounded with a mix of excitement and anxiety as she made her way to his chambers.

…..

Lucifer, now in his chambers, was lost in a haze of drunken stupor. His mind drifted to memories of Lilith, the woman he had vowed to protect and cherish. When Guinevere entered his room, he did not see the queen of Camelot but the visage of his lost love.

"Lilith," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He reached out and hugged Guinevere, pulling her close. In his muddled state, he believed this to be a dream, a fleeting moment where he could once again hold the woman he had loved so dearly.

Guinevere, overcome by her own feelings and the enchantment placed upon her by Morgan, did not resist. She melted into Lucifer's embrace, her own desires clouding her judgment. The boundaries of reality and fantasy blurred as they shared a moment of forbidden intimacy.

…..

The morning light brought clarity and a harsh reality. Lucifer awoke to find Guinevere in his arms, the events of the previous night rushing back to him in a wave of guilt and regret. He quickly disentangled himself, his mind racing to comprehend the gravity of their actions.

"Guinevere," he began, his voice filled with anguish, "what have I done?"

Guinevere, now free from the enchantment but still deeply affected by her emotions, looked at him with tear-filled eyes. "Lancelot, I... I don't know. I was drawn to you, and at that moment, I couldn't think clearly."

Their shared guilt was palpable, a heavy burden that neither knew how to bear. The revelation of their indiscretion would have devastating consequences for Camelot, and both understood the gravity of their actions.

….

Morgan, having orchestrated the entire encounter, watched from the shadows with a satisfied smile. Her plan had succeeded beyond her expectations. The seeds of discord had been sown, and now she only needed to wait for them to take root.

Mordred, informed of the night's events, felt a twisted sense of vindication. He saw this as proof of his mother's warnings about the hypocrisy and deceit within Camelot. His resentment toward Arthur and his knights deepened, fueling his ambitions for power and revenge.

…..

Despite their efforts to keep their indiscretion a secret, rumors began to circulate within the castle. Whispers of Guinevere and Lancelot's closeness reached Arthur's ears. Though initially dismissive, the persistent rumors gnawed at him, filling him with a growing sense of unease.

One day, Arthur confronted Guinevere, his voice tinged with a mix of hurt and anger. "Guinevere, is there any truth to these rumors? Have you been unfaithful?"

Guinevere, wracked with guilt, could not meet his gaze. "Arthur, I... I made a terrible mistake. I was weak and confused, and I sought comfort in Lancelot's company."

Arthur's expression hardened, his eyes reflecting the deep betrayal he felt. "Lancelot was my most trusted knight and friend, and you were my queen. How could you both do this to me, to Camelot?"

…..

The scandal of Guinevere and Lancelot's affair rocked Camelot to its core. The knights of the Round Table were divided, their loyalty torn between their king and their friend. A trial was called to address the matter, and the once-united kingdom teetered on the brink of chaos.

Lucifer, standing before the assembled knights and Arthur, felt the weight of his actions more acutely than ever. He had not only betrayed his friend and king but had also jeopardized the future of Camelot.

"Arthur," he said, his voice steady but filled with remorse, "I take full responsibility for my actions. Guinevere was innocent in this. She was but beguiled by some force."

Arthur's expression remained stony. "You were both trusted members of this court. Your actions have brought shame and division upon us. As a consequences of your actions, you shall be punished.."

…..

The trial concluded with a harsh sentence. Guinevere was to be exiled from Camelot, her status as queen stripped away. And Lancelot, was to face execution for his betrayal. The unity of Camelot hung by a thread, and the future seemed uncertain.

….

As the day of his execution approached, Lucifer found himself lost in a torrent of memories and regrets. The heavy burden of his past mistakes weighed on his mind, each one a reminder of the pain and suffering he had caused. He thought of the time in the Garden of Eden, when, in a moment of weakness and confusion, he had slept with Eve, mistaking her for Lilith. That singular act had set off a chain of events that led to Lilith being cast into the Underworld, her fate forever altered by his actions.

He remembered Adam, his beloved friend, who had shown him an unimaginable grace by forgiving him despite the betrayal. Adam's forgiveness had been a testament to the strength of their bond, yet it had also underscored the depth of Lucifer's guilt and shame. Now, standing on the brink of his own end, he saw the parallels between his past and present actions. It seemed history was bound to repeat itself, with his recent betrayal echoing the ancient mistakes that had once brought ruin to those he loved.

…

The day of the execution dawned cold and gray, the atmosphere in Camelot heavy with a sense of impending finality. The knights and citizens gathered in the courtyard, their faces somber as they awaited the king's decree. Arthur stood before the assembled crowd, his expression stern yet tinged with sorrow. The betrayal had wounded him deeply, but he understood that his duty as king required him to act with both justice and mercy.

Lancelot was brought forth in chains. His eyes met Arthur's, and for a brief moment, the shared history and unspoken understanding between them hung in the air. Guinevere stood beside him, her face pale and drawn, the weight of her own guilt and sorrow evident.

Arthur raised his hand, calling for silence. "Citizens of Camelot," he began, his voice steady but grave. "We stand here today to address the grave transgressions committed by Sir Lancelot and Queen Guinevere. Their actions have brought dishonor upon this court and have sown discord among us. However, in light of the circumstances and in the spirit of mercy, I have decided upon a different course."

The crowd murmured in anticipation, their curiosity piqued.

"Lancelot and Guinevere," Arthur continued, "In due to your past services and accomplishments you shall not be executed. But, you are hereby banished from Camelot and all the lands of Britain. You shall live out the rest of your days in exile, far from the kingdom you have wronged. This is my decree!"

….

The announcement of their banishment struck like a thunderclap to all subjects of Camelot. Lucifer and Guinevere exchanged a glance, a mixture of guilt and despair passing between them. While their lives were spared, the price they paid was the loss of everything they had come to know and cherish.

As they were escorted out of Camelot, the reality of their exile began to sink in. The roads that had once felt familiar now seemed foreign and forbidding. The people they passed turned away, their expressions a mix of pity and disdain. The weight of their actions pressed heavily on them, each step a reminder of the choices that had led them to this moment.

…

As Lancelot and Guinevere hurried through the dense forest, the atmosphere around them grew heavy with dread. The shadows cast by the towering trees seemed to whisper of the peril that lay ahead. They had barely departed from King Lot's castle when Lancelot's sharp instincts caught the sound of approaching footsteps—a group of knights moving swiftly and purposefully through the woods.

Leading the group was Sir Gawain, his eyes burning with a mix of righteous anger and profound hurt. The betrayal that had fractured Camelot weighed heavily on him, and he was determined to bring Lancelot to justice. Behind him rode his brothers, Gareth and Gaheris, alongside Sir Bors, Sir Lionel, and Sir Kay. These were men who had once considered Lancelot a brother, but now they sought him out, driven by a need to rectify the wrongs that had shattered their world.

"Lancelot!" Gawain's voice pierced the stillness of the forest, laden with the pain and betrayal he could no longer contain. "You have dishonored our king, betrayed our queen, and destroyed the very ideals that Camelot stood for. There is no escaping what you've done. You must answer for your sins!"

Lancelot, his heart heavy with remorse, drew his sword, though his spirit recoiled at what was to come. "Gawain, I never wished for this outcome," he replied, his voice steady but filled with sorrow. "But I will not let harm be upon Guinevere, even if it means fighting those I once called brothers."

With those words, the battle erupted. The knights charged at Lancelot, their resolve hardened by the weight of their betrayal. Gawain led the attack with unrelenting fury, his strikes powerful and precise. Lancelot, though deeply troubled by the situation, met each blow with the skill and grace that had earned him his legendary status.

The clash of swords echoed through the forest as Gawain and Lancelot engaged in a fierce duel. Gawain's strikes were fueled by a desire for vengeance, but Lancelot, driven by the need to hold back and protect Guinevere, fought with a desperation that matched Gawain's fury. The two knights were evenly matched, their swords clashing with the intensity of a storm.

As the battle raged on, the other knights joined the fray. Sir Gareth and Sir Gaheris flanked Lancelot, their blows aimed at overwhelming him. Despite his reluctance to harm his former comrades, Lancelot defended himself with all the skills he could muster. But the relentless assault, combined with his own inner turmoil, began to take its toll.

In the heat of the battle, Lancelot found himself facing Sir Gareth, the youngest of the Orkney brothers. There was a fleeting moment of hesitation in Lancelot's eyes as he parried Gareth's attacks. He had always regarded Gareth as a younger brother and did not wish to harm him. However, Gareth was relentless, his determination to avenge Camelot driving him forward. In a swift, instinctive move, Lancelot countered Gareth's attack, his sword piercing through Gareth's armor and finding its mark.

Gareth's eyes widened in shock as he fell to the ground, the life draining from him. Lancelot's heart ached as he realized what he had done, but there was no time to grieve. Gaheris, seeing his brother's fate, let out a cry of anguish and charged at Lancelot with renewed fury. Despite his sorrow, Lancelot defended himself, and with a heavy heart, he delivered a fatal blow to Gaheris as well.

The deaths of Gareth and Gaheris sent a ripple of despair through the battlefield. The remaining knights faltered, their resolve shaken by the loss of the Orkney brothers. But Gawain, consumed by grief and rage, pressed on, his strikes growing more savage with each passing moment.

Sir Bors and Sir Lionel moved in to flank Lancelot, hoping to end the fight quickly. However, Lancelot, though weary and filled with sorrow, fought with the ferocity of a cornered lion. He disarmed Sir Bors with a powerful swing, sending his sword flying from his hand. In a swift motion, Lancelot delivered a fatal blow to Bors, a knight who had once been his closest ally.

Sir Lionel, seeing his cousin fall, attacked with renewed vigor, but Lancelot, driven by a mix of despair and the instinct to survive, parried his strike and delivered a fatal thrust that ended Lionel's life.

Amidst the chaos, Sir Kay, the Seneschal of Camelot, lunged at Lancelot with all his might. Though heavily outmatched, Kay fought valiantly, his loyalty to Arthur driving him forward. Lancelot, unable to bring himself to kill the one who was Arthur's foster brother, struck Kay with a powerful blow that sent him crashing to the ground, with a huge gash of wound on his chest, heavily injured and unconscious but still alive.

The forest, once filled with the sounds of battle, grew eerily silent. Lancelot stood amidst the bodies of those he had once called friends, his sword dripping with their blood. Gawain, seeing the fallen bodies of his brothers and fellow knights, felt his heart break. Though he fought on with all his might, the weight of his grief and the intensity of Lancelot's defense proved too much. Bloodied and exhausted, Gawain was forced to watch as Lancelot and Guinevere mounted their horses and fled into the woods, leaving behind the shattered remnants of Camelot's brotherhood.

-

As they rode, the shadows of the trees grew longer, casting the landscape into a twilight gloom. The path before them was uncertain, fraught with danger and the unknown. Lancelot led the way, his senses alert for any sign of pursuit. He knew that Gawain, would stop at nothing to avenge the deaths of his brothers. And there were others—knights loyal to Arthur—who would also hunt them down.

After days of grueling travel, they finally arrived at the town of Amesbury. The town was quiet, a place of simple folk and modest means, untouched by the grandeur and turmoil of Camelot. It was here, amid the tranquil surroundings, that they sought refuge. They found solace in a secluded spot on the outskirts of town, where a serene pond lay nestled amidst the beauty of nature. The sight of the peaceful water and the gentle sway of the trees offered them a brief respite from the horrors they had endured.

But even in this tranquil setting, the shadow of their past loomed large. The bloodshed they had left behind, the broken bonds of brotherhood, and the relentless pursuit that awaited them—it all hung over them like a dark cloud, threatening to engulf them at any moment, yet, it never came.

…..

After their banishment Camelot had experienced a period of grief, hearing the news of the fall of the knights. but the king did not issue any orders for the pursuit of the fae knight and former queen. with that the shadow of conflict loomed ever closer.

Whispers of demonic activity and unrest in the Underworld reached the ears of those in power. The Fallen, hearing of the legendary sword Excalibur—once wielded by the Almighty himself—were driven by a desire to seize its power. Among them were the devil royalists of the Underworld, who sought to destroy the sword and bring about chaos.

Morgan, always scheming and filled with ambition, saw an opportunity in the two factions thirst for power. She had long harbored resentment and jealousy, and now, with the devil's' interest in Excalibur, she could set her plans in motion. By informing the devils of Excalibur's true nature and history, she ignited their fervor to invade Camelot.

….

The once serene and fortified walls of Camelot were now bracing for an unprecedented invasion. The devils, with their ferocious power and dark magic, breached the outer defenses, spreading terror among the inhabitants. The knights of the Round Table, though valiant and skilled, found themselves overwhelmed by the sheer force and numbers of the demonic army.

Morgan's betrayal ran deeper than just revealing the sword's secrets. She had sown discord among Arthur's knights, convincing some to join her cause with promises of power and vengeance. The unity of Camelot, once its greatest strength, now hung by a thread.

…..

Arthur, returning from an expedition to thwart invaders threatening the isles, was met with the dire news of Camelot's siege. His heart heavy with worry for his kingdom and his people, he pushed his forces to march with all possible speed. Yet, as they neared Camelot, they encountered another formidable challenge.

At the hill of Camlann, Arthur came face to face with a rebellion led by none other than Mordred. The sight of his illegitimate son, standing defiant and surrounded by both devils and some of the knights of the Round, struck a deep chord of pain and betrayal within him.

….

The battlefield at Camlann was a scene of chaos and bloodshed. Arthur, his heart torn between the duty of a king and the sorrow of a father, engaged Mordred in a fierce duel. The clash of their swords echoed with the weight of their shared blood and history. Mordred's hatred for his father and desire for power drove him with a ferocity that matched Arthur's skill and determination.

The forces of devils, summoned by Morgan's machinations, added to the turmoil. Dark magic and hellish fire ravaged the land, and the knights who stood loyal to Arthur fought with desperate valor. The betrayal of the knights who sided with Mordred further complicated the battle, their actions a twisted reflection of the internal struggles and ambitions that plagued Camelot.

….

The final clash between Arthur and Mordred at the hill of Camlann had been a tragic and defining moment. As Arthur's strength waned, he mustered the last of his will to deliver a fatal blow to his son. Excalibur, the legendary sword imbued with divine power, pierced Mordred's heart. Yet, as it did, a profound and ancient will was awakened.

Excalibur, crafted by the Almighty for Lucifer, was never meant for a father to end the life of a son. The paradox of its purpose clashing with its action caused the sword to shatter into several pieces. The fragments of the divine blade fell to the ground, glinting in the blood-soaked earth, a stark symbol of the broken lineage and the tragedy that had unfolded.

when the faction of heaven finally arrived, everything had already long been over. not even the knowledge of where the Holy sword went. not until later that they would be informed of it's destruction and reforged into new swords bearing the name, Excalibur.

….

The death of Arthur and the destruction of Excalibur had shattered the hopes of its people. The remaining knights of the Round Table, led by Sir Gawain and Sir Bedivere, worked tirelessly to maintain order, but the once-great court was now a shadow of its former self. but one knight stood fast, Galahad, the son of the treacherous knight, remained still. Guardian of Camelot, protecting its people to give chance for their escape against the invaders and rebels.

only after everything was over, did he embarked upon his prophesied journey and the last order of his king. the journey to find the Holy Grail.

Sir Bedivere, the last of Arthur's closest companions, and most loyal knight, also fulfilled his solemn duty by returning the broken shards of Excalibur to the Lady of the Lake. With a heavy heart, he made his way to the mist-shrouded lake, where the Lady emerged from its depths to receive the fragments. Her sorrowful gaze met Bedivere's as he handed over the remnants of the legendary sword. "The end of an era," she whispered as she took the shards into her hands, the ethereal glow of the lake reflecting in her eyes.

But as Bedivere turned to leave, a figure stepped from the shadows of the forest—Merlin, the wizard and advisor who had guided Arthur throughout his reign. Her eyes, filled with both sorrow and resolve, were fixed on the Lady of the Lake.

"Lady," Merlin began, her voice carrying the weight of centuries of knowledge, "the end of Arthur's reign marks the close of a chapter, but not the end of the story. Darkness looms over the land, and the people are in desperate need of hope. We cannot allow the light of Camelot to fade."

The Lady of the Lake, understanding the gravity of Merlin's words, looked down at the shards of Excalibur in her hands. "What do you propose, Merlin?"

Merlin stepped closer, her gaze intense. "These shards still possess the power of Excalibur. They are not merely fragments of a broken sword—they are fragments of a legend. I ask that you allow me to forge them into seven new blades, each imbued with the strength and spirit of the original Excalibur."

The Lady of the Lake studied the shards, contemplating Merlin's request. She knew that Excalibur was more than just a weapon; it was a symbol of the ideals Arthur had fought to uphold. The thought of creating new blades from its remains was both daunting and inspiring.

"Seven new swords," she mused, her voice soft as the breeze that whispered through the trees. "Each one could carry a piece of Arthur's legacy, a beacon of hope in these dark times."

Merlin nodded. "Each sword will be entrusted to a new generation of knights, worthy of bearing the mantle of Camelot. Together, they will stand against the darkness, united in their purpose, just as the knights of the Round Table once were."

The Lady of the Lake closed her eyes, feeling the weight of the shards in her hands. After a moment of silence, she opened them again, her decision made. "Very well, Merlin. I shall grant you the shards. But know this—the shards will not be mere weapons. They will carry the ideals that shape the original sword, and those who wield them must be worthy of its legacy."

Merlin bowed her head in gratitude. "I understand, my Lady. I will ensure that only those with the purest hearts and the strongest resolve will wield these swords."

With a graceful motion, the Lady of the Lake raised the shards above the surface of the water. The lake began to glow with a brilliant light, and the shards floated out of her hands, suspended in the air. The light grew brighter, enveloping the shards until they were no longer visible. When the light finally faded, the shards had been transformed into seven gleaming fragments, each pulsating with a soft, otherworldly glow.

The Lady of the Lake carefully handed the fragments to Merlin, her expression solemn.

Merlin took the fragments, feeling the immense power radiating from them. " Thank you, my lady."

With the fragments of Excalibur in her possession, Merlin returned to her hidden sanctuary deep within the forest. There, she would begin the arduous task of forging the seven new swords, each destined to play a crucial role in the future of Britain. These swords, born from the ashes of Camelot's greatest symbol, would become the tools of a new generation of heroes, their purpose to defend the kingdom and uphold the ideals of Arthur.

The Lady of the Lake watched as Merlin departed, knowing that the path ahead would be fraught with challenges. But in her heart, she held hope that the new Excaliburs would light the way in the darkness, and that the legacy of King Arthur would endure, carried on by those who were worthy to wield the swords forged from the very spirit of Camelot.

"And I'm sure that's what that man would have wanted."

…

Far from the turmoil of Camelot, Lucifer and Guinevere had found solace in their exile. They had built a modest life together, finding comfort in each other's presence. The simple joys of daily life had brought them a sense of peace that Lucifer had not known for centuries.

Their marriage, though shadowed by the past, was filled with genuine affection and mutual support. Guinevere, having borne the weight of her own regrets, found solace in Lucifer's company. Together, they sought to create a life free from the burdens of their past actions.

….

The news of Camelot's fall reached Lucifer and Guinevere belatedly. A messenger, sent by one of the surviving knights, brought word of the tragic events that had transpired. Lucifer, upon hearing of Arthur's death and the shattering of Excalibur, felt an overwhelming wave of grief wash over him.

The memories of his time in Camelot, the bonds he had formed, and the mistakes he had made came rushing back. He had hoped that Camelot, under Arthur's noble rule, would stand as a beacon of hope and justice. Now, that hope seemed shattered like the fragments of Excalibur.

…..

Lucifer's thoughts turned inward as he struggled to process the loss. He recalled his own failings—the times he had let down those he loved, the moments when his judgment had faltered. The parallels between his past mistakes and the recent events at Camelot were painfully clear.

The guilt of those mistakes had haunted him for millennia. Now, the sight of Excalibur shattered and Camelot fallen felt like history repeating itself. He had failed to protect Arthur, just as he had failed so many others before.

…..

As Lucifer stood on the shores of Avalon, cradling Arthur's lifeless body in his arms, he couldn't shake the feeling of déjà vu. The tranquil waters of the lake rippled softly around them, carrying whispers of ancient magic and untold secrets. Here, on this mystical isle, where the boundaries between the mortal realm and the realm of the fae blurred, lay the final resting place of Adam and Eve.

Guinevere stood beside him, her eyes filled with sorrow as she watched the solemn procession. Together, they had endured the trials and tribulations of Camelot, only to witness its tragic downfall. And now, they stood witness to the passing of another legend, another hero lost to the annals of time.

As Arthur's body was gently placed upon a boat adorned with flowers and symbols of his noble lineage, Lucifer felt a pang of sadness deep within his heart. He had grown fond of Arthur, admiring his courage and his unwavering dedication to the ideals of Camelot. In many ways, Arthur had reminded him of Adam, his dearest friend from a time long past.

With solemn reverence, Lucifer and Guinevere watched as the boat began its journey across the tranquil waters of the lake. The fae, with an air of solemnity , emerged from the mist-shrouded forest to pay their respects to the fallen king. Their mournful songs echoed across the waters, a haunting lament for a hero lost too soon.

As the boat slowly descended into the depths of the lake, disappearing from view, Lucifer bowed his head in silent prayer. He whispered words of farewell to his fallen friend, promising to honor his memory.

Beside him, Guinevere placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, offering silent support in their shared grief. Together, they stood on the shores of Avalon, united in their sorrow.

….

Years after the fall of Camelot, In the quiet countryside of their secluded exile in Amysbury, Lucifer and Guinevere sought solace in the simplicity of everyday life. As they settled into their new home.

Inspired by the bustling coffeehouses of the world of the red bowman, Lucifer decided to channel his passion into a new venture: a quaint coffee shop nestled on the outskirts of their village. With Guinevere's encouragement and support, he set to work bringing his vision to life.

Using the knowledge gained from the man. Lucifer crafted the perfect blend of beans, infusing each cup with a hint of magic that delighted the senses and lifted the spirits of all who tasted it. Guinevere, with her keen eye for design and aesthetics, helped transform their humble abode into a cozy retreat where weary travelers and curious locals alike could find respite from the cares of the world.

As word of the mysterious coffee shop spread throughout the town, curious patrons began to trickle in, drawn by the tantalizing aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the warm, welcoming atmosphere that enveloped them like a comforting embrace.

With each passing day, the coffee shop became more than just a place to enjoy a cup of coffee; it became a gathering place for friends old and new, a sanctuary where tales were shared, dreams were forged, and memories were made.

For Lucifer, the coffee shop was more than just a business venture; it was a symbol of hope and renewal, a testament to his decision to move forward. And as he stood behind the counter, brewing potions of warmth and happiness for his loyal customers, he knew that he had finally found his semblance of peace in this world, alongside Guinevere, his friend, companion and lover, and the coffee shop that had become his home.

….

With a tender touch and a whispered incantation, Lucifer bestowed upon Guinevere the gift of longevity, weaving a spell that would grant her many more years by his side, by imitating the blessing bestowed by the paradise of heaven, Eden. As the magic flowed through her veins, Guinevere felt a renewed sense of vitality coursing through her, her spirit alight with the promise of endless tomorrows.

Together, they watched the seasons change and the world evolve around them, their love enduring through the passage of time like a beacon in the darkness. With each passing year, their bond grew stronger, deepening with the shared experiences and memories they accumulated along the way.

In the bustling coffee shop they had built together, Guinevere found purpose and fulfillment, her days filled with laughter, conversation, and the joy of serving others. And by Lucifer's side, she flourished, her heart overflowing with gratitude for the precious gift life had bestowed upon her.

As they walked hand in hand through the winding streets of their village, Guinevere marveled at the beauty of the world around her, savoring each moment as if it were a precious jewel to be treasured for eternity. And though they knew that their journey together would one day come to an end, they took comfort in the knowledge that their love would endure forever, though Guinevere prayed in her heart that when that time would come to pass. Lucifer would continue to Love and won't close his heart.

….

Another day of tending to the coffee shop, its tranquility was disturbed as the bell signaling the entrance of another patron to their humble establishment.

" Welcome, to 'Avalon'" he said with a smile as he turned to greet the people who entered.

Just then, Lucifer's heart skipped a beat as he beheld the two women who had entered his café, their presence sending a shiver down his spine. A woman, appearing someone of noble lineage and her maid bore an uncanny resemblance to his former consorts, Levi and Zebubra, stirring memories long buried beneath the weight of time.

Suppressing the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm him, Lucifer forced a smile onto his lips, masking the turmoil raging within. With practiced ease, he composed himself, his gaze steady as he greeted the unexpected visitors.

"Welcome to our humble establishment," he said, his voice betraying none of the turmoil churning within him. "I trust you'll find our selection to your liking."

The noble lady regarded him with a cool detachment, her piercing gaze seeming to see straight through his facade. "We shall see," she replied, her tone clipped and dismissive.

Her white haired maid, however, offered a polite smile, her eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. "Thank you for having us," she said, her voice warm and inviting.

As they made their way to a table, Lucifer couldn't help but steal glances at the two women, his heart heavy with the weight of memories long gone. Levi and Zebubra had been his closest companions in the dark days of his past, their loss leaving a void in his heart that had never fully healed.

As he prepared their order, Lucifer found himself lost in thought, his mind drifting back to the days when Levi and Zebubra had stood by his side, their loyalty unwavering in the face of adversity. And though he knew that these women were not truly his former consorts, the resemblance was uncanny, stirring emotions he had long thought buried.

With a heavy sigh, Lucifer pushed aside his melancholy and focused on the task at hand, determined to provide his guests with the best possible experience. But deep down, he couldn't shake the feeling that their arrival heralded the beginning of a new chapter in his long and tumultuous existence.

….

Serafall Leviathan, one of the newly appointed demon lords after the tumultuous underworld civil war, entered the quaint coffee shop in the rural town, she exuded an air of elegance and coldness. Beside her walked Graffia Lucifuge, the wife of the demon lord Sirzechs Gremory, now known as Sirzechs Lucifer after ascending to the rank of demon lord.

As they approached the counter, Graffia couldn't shake the feeling of familiarity that washed over her upon seeing the man preparing their coffee. There was something about him, something in the way he moved and carried himself, that stirred a distant memory within her, yet she couldn't place where or when she had encountered him before.

Observing the man behind the counter, Serafall raised an eyebrow in curiosity, her sharp gaze taking in his every movement. She was keenly aware of Graffia's unease, and though she too felt a sense of recognition, she remained composed, her demeanor calm and collected.

"Interesting," Serafall remarked, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. "It seems this coffee shop has quite the reputation, and quite the naming choice too.."

Graffia nodded in agreement, though her mind was preoccupied with trying to unravel the mystery of the man before them. She couldn't shake the feeling that their encounter was more than just a mere coincidence, that there was something significant about him that eluded her grasp.

As the man finished preparing their drinks and turned to serve them, Graffia's eyes met his, and for a fleeting moment, she thought she saw a flicker of longing ? Regret? in his gaze. But just as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone, leaving her feeling even more perplexed than before.

With their drinks in hand, the man made his way to their table, their conversation turning to lighter topics as they enjoyed their refreshments. But deep down, Graffia couldn't shake the feeling that the mysterious man held deeper significance, and she vowed to unravel the mystery that lingered in the depths of her memory.

…

…

As the two women departed from the coffee shop, their presence leaving a lingering air of mystique in their wake, Guinevere entered the establishment, her arms laden with baskets filled with fresh fruits and vegetables gifted by the grateful villagers.

With a warm smile, Guinevere greeted Lucifer, her eyes brightening at the sight of him behind the counter. Despite the passing of time and the trials they had faced together, her affection for him remained unwavering, a steadfast beacon of light in the midst of their tumultuous lives.

Setting the baskets down on the counter, Guinevere leaned in to press a gentle kiss to Lucifer's cheek, her touch imbued with tenderness and affection. "I've brought back the offerings from the villagers," she said softly, her voice carrying a melodic lilt that echoed through the café.

Lucifer returned her smile, his gaze softening as he took in the sight of her. "Thank you, my dear," he replied, his voice filled with gratitude but with a hint of exasperation. "Their generosity never fails to humble me, I already said it was fine, yet they still insisted."

Together, they began to unpack the baskets, arranging the colorful array of fruits and vegetables with care and precision. As they worked side by side, a sense of tranquility settled over them, the hustle and bustle of the outside world fading into the background as they focused on the simple pleasure of their shared task.

In that moment, surrounded by the bountiful gifts and the comforting presence of each other, Guinevere and Lucifer found solace amidst the chaos of their lives. And as they continued their work, their bond grew stronger, a testament to the enduring power of love and companionship in the face of adversity.

A jingle of a bell, and a man with appearance to that of a gentleman wearing a top hat entered, held within his right hand is a cane which was adorned with jewels.

Looking right to meet Lucifer's wide eyes of surprise and recognition. Tipping his hat in greetings, He smiled.

…..

Merlin, the legendary wizard, who had been entrusted with the fragments of Excalibur, knowing that their power could not be allowed to fade into obscurity. With her mastery of alchemy and ancient magic, she set out to restore the broken sword to its former glory.

Using the pieces of Excalibur, Merlin crafted seven new swords, each infused with a portion of the original blade's divine essence. These swords, bearing the name "Excalibur," would serve as guardians of humanity, protectors against the forces of darkness that threatened to engulf the world.

Excalibur Destruction

This sword, imbued with the power to cleave through any obstacle, was a formidable weapon in the hands of a skilled warrior. With a single stroke, it could shatter even the strongest of defenses, laying waste to any who dared to oppose it.

Excalibur Mimic

A sword of deception and illusion, Excalibur Mimic could take on the form of any weapon wielded by its opponent. It was a master of disguise, capable of confounding even the most astute of adversaries with its ever-changing appearance.

Excalibur Rapidly

Swift as the wind, Excalibur Rapidly was a blade of unparalleled speed and agility. In the hands of a skilled swordsman, it could strike with blinding swiftness, delivering devastating blows before the enemy had a chance to react.

Excalibur Nightmare

With the power to invoke fear and terror in the hearts of its foes, Excalibur Nightmare was a weapon of psychological warfare. Its mere presence on the battlefield could sow chaos and confusion among the enemy ranks, turning their own fears against them.

Excalibur Transparency

Invisible to the naked eye, Excalibur Transparency was a blade cloaked in mystery and intrigue. It could pass through solid objects with ease, striking unseen and unheard until it was too late for its victims to react.

Excalibur Blessing

A sword of healing and restoration, Excalibur Blessing was a beacon of hope in dark times. It could mend wounds and soothe weary souls, bringing comfort and relief to those in need.

And finally, Excalibur Ruler

The ultimate authority on the other six, Excalibur Ruler, was a sword of command and authority. A symbol for the next king of Britain.

….

With the seven swords of Excalibur forged and ready, Merlin entrusted them to the care of the three major branches of Christianity that rose after the great war—the Catholic Church, the Protestant Church, and the Eastern Orthodox Church. Each church received two swords, along with the responsibility of safeguarding them and training worthy warriors to wield their power.

...

I'M BACK!!! lol, would have been done writing this sooner if not for the shit that happened. it's been like, what? two-three months?

had to go off grid for a bit lmao. now I'm back... though I don't think I can upload the next chapter for a while, still halfway done with it. lol, I'm done writing the what would be chapter 50, but haven't finished the past chapters.

hnnhnnhnnhnnhahahaha Mwahahahha!

anyways, see you in the next chapter, ciao~.