Back in the fiery arena, the balance of power was slowly shifting. Satan, once the undisputed ruler of Hell and unmatched in strength, was becoming increasingly erratic. Every swing of his hammer that missed, every blow Spawn landed, only added fuel to the fire of his rage.

His molten eyes burned brighter, and his snarls grew deeper, but his attacks became wilder and less precise. He lashed out with brute force, the ground beneath him cracking and sizzling with each missed strike.

Spawn, on the other hand, remained eerily calm. His glowing green eyes never wavered, his every move calculated and precise. He could see the cracks in Satan's composure widening with each exchange, and he pressed his advantage relentlessly.

As Satan lunged at him again, Spawn dodged effortlessly, his cape billowing behind him like a shadowy shroud. "You're losing your touch, big guy," he taunted, his voice dripping with mockery. "All that power, and you still can't hit me? I expected better from Hell's so-called ruler."

Satan roared with fury, his wings flaring as he swung his hammer in a wide arc. Spawn ducked beneath it, his chains rattling as he leapt into the air.

"Missed again," Spawn quipped, his smirk widening. "Maybe you should sit this one out. Let someone competent take over."

The taunts were working. Satan's molten streaks pulsed brighter as his fury reached a fever pitch. But before he could launch another attack, Spawn's chains shot out like serpents, one of them looping into Satan's mouth like a horse's bit.

The sudden maneuver caught Satan off guard, his massive jaws snapping shut around the chain as he stumbled backward.

The crowd outside the cage gasped, their expressions a mix of shock and awe.

"No way," Moxxie muttered, his jaw dropping as he gripped the invisible barrier.

Millie's eyes widened before a fierce grin spread across her face. "He's got him!" she exclaimed, practically bouncing on her heels.

Blitzo let out a loud laugh, slapping his knee. "I don't believe it," he said, his voice filled with a mix of disbelief and admiration. "Spawn's riding him like a damn rodeo bull!"

Inside the cage, Spawn didn't waste a moment. Using the chain as leverage, he pulled himself onto Satan's back, his cape flowing like a flag of defiance.

Satan roared, thrashing wildly as he tried to shake Spawn off. His massive wings flapped furiously, sending gusts of searing heat through the arena. The ground trembled beneath his stomping feet, and the cage walls rattled with the force of his fury.

The spectators were riveted, their eyes glued to the scene unfolding before them.

Beelzebub's molten hair swirled faster as she leaned forward, her hot-pink pupils narrowing. "That's... not something you see every day," she murmured, her voice tinged with awe.

Asmodeus nodded slowly, his neon green eyes glinting with amusement. "He's not just fighting Satan," he said. "He's humiliating him."

Leviathan let out a loud laugh, her tongue flicking between her sharp teeth. "This is priceless!" she cackled, "I don't even care if he loses now—this is worth it!"

Inside the cage, Satan thrashed and roared, his molten claws tearing at the chain in his mouth as his rage consumed him. "Get off me, you insolent wretch!" he bellowed, his voice shaking the arena.

But Spawn only tightened his grip, his smirk growing darker. "What's the matter, Satan?" he said mockingly. "Can't handle a little humiliation?"

The Hellspawn's calculated insults and brazen tactics had turned the battle into a spectacle unlike anything Hell had ever seen. And though the fight was far from over, one thing was clear: Spawn wasn't just surviving—he was winning the psychological war.

Spawn tightened his grip on the chain in Satan's mouth, pulling hard to steer the towering demon's head to the side. The crowd outside the cage watched in stunned silence as Satan thrashed and roared, his molten claws swiping furiously at the air.

But the Hellspawn had grown tired of the game. He was done taunting. It was time to make a statement—one that would haunt Satan for eternity.

"Enough," Spawn growled, his voice low and cold.

With a powerful leap, he jumped off Satan's back, landing a few paces away. His Axe of Agony appeared in his hands, its jagged blade glowing ominously with necroplasmic energy. Spawn's glowing green eyes locked onto Satan's, his expression hard and unrelenting.

"You're pathetic," Spawn said, his tone sharp and cutting. "All this power, all this rage—and what have you done with it? Nothing. You're nothing but a pretender, playing king while the real ruler is away."

Satan froze for a moment, his molten eyes narrowing as the words sank in. His body trembled with rage, the molten streaks on his skin pulsing brighter and hotter. "You insolent worm," he snarled, his voice trembling with fury. "I will destroy you!"

Spawn smirked, his grip tightening on his axe. "You're welcome to try," he said darkly.

With a sudden burst of speed, Spawn surged forward, his axe raised high. Satan swung his hammer in a desperate attempt to counter, but Spawn was faster. With a powerful strike, the blade of his axe cleaved through one of Satan's massive horns.

The horn fell to the ground with a resounding crash, shattering into fiery fragments as it hit the obsidian floor.

Satan let out a deafening roar, the sound shaking the arena and rattling the cage walls. His massive wings flared as his molten body flared brighter, the sheer heat radiating from him making the air shimmer.

Outside the cage, the crowd erupted into gasps and murmurs, their shock palpable.

"No way," Moxxie whispered, his wide eyes fixed on the fallen horn.

Millie's fists clenched at her sides, a fierce grin spreading across her face. "He did it," she said, her voice filled with awe. "He actually did it."

Blitzo let out a loud laugh, throwing his arms in the air. "Oh, man! This is the best thing I've ever seen!"

Even Beelzebub and Asmodeus exchanged looks of astonishment, their expressions betraying their disbelief.

Above the arena, Yogirt watched the scene unfold through his glowing, rune-etched camera. The moment Spawn's axe struck Satan's horn, he let out a sharp gasp.

"Oh, no, no, no," Yogirt muttered, his usual cocky grin replaced with a look of panic. He adjusted the camera, his yellow eyes darting nervously between the screen and the battle below. "This is bad. Really bad."

He hesitated for a split second, then made his decision. With a quick motion, he cut the feed.

Across Hell, screens went dark, leaving countless viewers in stunned silence as the broadcast ended abruptly.

Back in the arena, Spawn stood tall, his axe resting on his shoulder as he watched Satan writhe in fury. The Hellspawn's glowing green eyes narrowed, his smirk widening as he took in the sight of the mighty Sin brought low.

"Consider that my gift to you," Spawn said coldly, his voice dripping with disdain.

Satan's roar echoed through the chamber, his molten claws tearing at the ground as he bellowed in rage. The air around him shimmered with heat, and the cage walls groaned under the pressure of his fury.

But Spawn didn't flinch. He stood his ground, his defiance unwavering as the fight continued.


In the quiet confines of her room at the Goetia Estate, Octavia sat riveted in front of her TV, her wide eyes fixed on the screen. The moment she saw Spawn cleave off one of Satan's massive horn, a surge of exhilaration shot through her.

She clutched a pillow tightly to her chest, her claws digging into the fabric as she fought to contain herself. Her whole body tensed with the urge to cheer, to shout in triumph, but she bit her lip hard, forcing herself to stay silent.

Her tail swished with barely restrained excitement as she whispered under her breath, "He did it... he actually did it."

To her, the sight of Spawn standing tall and defiant against Satan, delivering a blow so humiliating to the so-called ruler of Hell, was nothing short of liberating. In a world where power and authority so often went unchecked, seeing someone like Spawn—someone who didn't care about the hierarchy, the rules, or the fear—stand up and win was electrifying.

But as the camera feed abruptly cut to black, her excitement quickly turned to frustration. The screen now displayed nothing but static, the faint crackle of interference filling the room.

"What?!" Octavia hissed, her claws gripping the edges of the pillow tightly. "No, no, no! Come on!"

She scrambled off the bed, pacing the room as her mind raced with questions. What had happened? Why did the feed stop? What was Spawn doing now?

Her wings fluttered slightly in agitation as she glanced toward the door, half-tempted to storm downstairs and demand answers. But she quickly dismissed the thought, knowing it would only draw unwanted attention.

"Stupid cameras," she muttered, her voice low but heated. "They finally show something worth watching, and they just cut it off? Seriously?"

Octavia sat back down on her bed, her tail flicking sharply behind her as she stared at the static on the screen. Her excitement was now laced with a gnawing sense of worry. Spawn had stood tall after cleaving Satan's horn, but she knew the fight wasn't over.

Would Satan retaliate? Could Spawn hold his own against an even angrier Satan?

Her claws tapped against the bedpost as she tried to reassure herself. "He'll be fine," she whispered, more to herself than anyone else. "He's Spawn. He's not going down that easily."

Still, the uncertainty ate at her. As much as she wanted to believe in Spawn's strength, the thought of him losing—of him being erased—made her chest tighten.

Octavia's gaze drifted to the posters on her wall, her resolve hardening slightly as she took a deep breath. "You've got this, Spawn," she murmured. "I know you do."

And so, she sat in silence, waiting and hoping for news of what would happen next.


In the opulent sitting room of the Goetia Estate, Andrealphus and Stella sat frozen in their seats, their expressions etched with disbelief. The ornate television in front of them flickered with static, but the image of Spawn's Axe of Agony cleaving through Satan's horn lingered vividly in their minds.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke, the weight of what they'd just witnessed settling over them like a heavy fog.

Andrealphus, his usual composed demeanor shattered, slowly set his wine glass down on the table. His ice-blue eyes remained fixed on the blank screen, as if expecting it to spring back to life and show him more. "He... actually did it," he said softly, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Stella's claws dug into the armrests of her chair, her eyes narrowing as she replayed the scene in her mind. "That sinner just... took off Satan's horn," she muttered, her voice low and sharp.

Andrealphus finally turned to her, his expression a mixture of shock and intrigue. "Do you have any idea what that means?" he asked, his tone unusually serious. "A sinner—an insignificant soul confined to Pentagram City—just dealt a permanent blow to Satan himself."

Stella's lips curled into a scowl, though her usual venom seemed muted by the gravity of the situation. "It means chaos," she said bitterly. "It means everything we know about Hell's order is now... unstable."

Andrealphus leaned back in his chair, his claws steepling as he considered her words. "This isn't just a humiliation for Satan," he mused. "It's a crack in the foundation of Hell's hierarchy. If a sinner can stand against one of the Sins and win, what does that say about the rest of us?"

Stella crossed her arms tightly over her chest, her wings twitching in irritation. "It says we're vulnerable," she said bluntly. "And if word of this spreads—which it will—it'll embolden others. Spawn's little stunt might inspire every lowlife and degenerate in Hell to think they can take on the established order."

Andrealphus frowned, his sharp features hardening as he tapped a claw against the armrest. "It's not just the lower ranks we have to worry about," he said thoughtfully. "If the other Sins see this as a sign of weakness, it could lead to infighting. Power struggles."

Stella stiffened, her claws gripping her arms tightly. "Do you think it will go that far?" she asked, her tone skeptical.

Andrealphus tilted his head, his icy eyes narrowing slightly. "It might," he said. "Spawn's actions aren't just a slight against Satan—they're a disruption to the carefully constructed order."

The room fell silent again, the only sound the faint hum of the static-filled TV.

Stella's wings twitched again as she let out a sharp exhale. "Whatever happens next," she said coldly, "one thing's certain: Spawn has changed things. Permanently."

Andrealphus nodded slowly, his gaze returning to the blank screen. "Yes," he murmured, his voice thoughtful. "And Hell will never be the same."


In the dimly lit apartment, Stolas sat motionless on the edge of Blitzo's couch, his wide, glowing eyes fixed on the screen. The image of Spawn driving his Axe of Agony through Satan's horn replayed vividly in his mind, even as the feed cut to static.

For a long moment, the room was silent, the only sound the faint crackle of the television's interference. Stolas didn't move, his feathers slightly ruffled as he processed what he had just witnessed.

Even without his title or position, he knew exactly what this meant.

"That..." Stolas finally murmured, his voice quiet but heavy. "That changes everything."

Spawn's actions weren't just a blow to Satan—they were a direct challenge to the established order of Hell itself. A sinner, someone who by all rights should have been confined to Pentagram City, had humiliated the ruler of Hell in front of countless witnesses. The political and social ripples of this moment would be felt across every ring.

Stolas exhaled slowly, his gaze shifting to the window as he thought about what would happen next. Would the other Sins see this as an opportunity to strike at Satan's perceived weakness? Would sinners and hellborn across Hell rise up, emboldened by Spawn's defiance?

The possibilities were endless, and none of them were comforting.

Yet, despite the looming implications, Stolas couldn't help but feel a flicker of admiration for Spawn.

"He's remarkable," Stolas murmured, almost to himself.

A small smile played at the edges of his beak as he leaned back slightly, his long fingers tapping rhythmically on the armrest. Spawn wasn't just powerful—he was fearless, defiant in a way few dared to be in Hell. Where others bowed to authority or played politics to survive, Spawn had faced Satan head-on and emerged victorious, if only for the moment.

"He's not bound by fear," Stolas mused, his tone thoughtful. "He doesn't care about the rules, the hierarchy... He fights on his terms."

His smile faded slightly as his thoughts turned to the future. Admiration aside, he knew this moment wasn't just about Spawn's defiance—it was about what it represented. A shift in power. A crack in the foundation of Hell's order. And cracks, if left unchecked, had a way of spreading.

Stolas's gaze drifted back to the static-filled screen, his expression a mixture of curiosity and concern. Despite the chaos this event would undoubtedly bring, part of him couldn't help but wonder: what would Spawn do next?

And more importantly, what would Hell do in response?


The flames of the arena burned hotter, the atmosphere crackling with raw energy as the fight reached a fever pitch. Satan, clutching the stump where his horn had once been, let out a guttural roar of pain and fury. His molten eyes blazed as he glared at Spawn, his massive claws trembling with rage.

"You insolent—" Satan began, his voice booming.

Before he could finish, one of Spawn's chains snapped forward with lightning speed, wrapping tightly around Satan's mouth. The metal links rattled as they coiled, silencing the Sin mid-roar.

"Enough talking," Spawn growled, his glowing green eyes narrowing as he pulled hard on the chain.

With a powerful tug, Spawn sent Satan hurtling across the arena. The massive demon slammed into the obsidian floor with earth-shattering force, the impact sending cracks spidering outward and shaking the cage walls.

Outside the arena, the spectators stood frozen in stunned silence. Not a single word was spoken as they watched Spawn, a mere sinner, manhandle Satan—the ruler of Hell—with a level of ferocity no one thought possible.

As Satan tried to push himself up, Spawn didn't give him the chance. He surged forward, leaping high into the air before coming down on Satan's chest with bone-crushing force. The ground beneath them cracked under the impact, and Satan let out a muffled groan of pain as the wind was knocked from his lungs.

Spawn stood atop the massive demon, his Axe of Agony glowing ominously as he pointed it directly at Satan's face. His cape billowed behind him like a shadowy shroud, and his chains rattled menacingly as they coiled around his body.

"Had enough?" Spawn asked coldly, his voice cutting through the crackling flames like a blade. "Or do you want more?"

Satan's molten eyes flared as he tried to break free from the chain around his mouth, his muffled growls vibrating through the arena. But his once-dominating presence had been reduced to something far less imposing—a defeated and humiliated ruler struggling beneath the weight of a defiant sinner.

Spawn leaned in closer, his glowing green eyes piercing through Satan's fury. "What's the matter?" he sneered. "Is this not how you thought today would go? You thought you'd flex your power, teach me a lesson? Looks like the lesson's on you."

The air shifted, growing heavier, and a swirling portal of crimson and gold tore open near the center of the cage. From within stepped Lucifer Morningstar, his elegant form exuding a presence both commanding and strangely approachable.

Lucifer's short, slicked-back blonde hair gleamed faintly in the dim light of the arena, and his crimson slit-pupiled eyes scanned the scene with an uncharacteristic seriousness. His sharp, white smile—full of pointed teeth—was absent for once, replaced by a composed, almost weary expression.

Clad in a red-trimmed white ringmaster's suit, adorned with golden accents and epaulets, Lucifer cut an imposing figure. His six pristine wings, tipped with red feathers, stretched slightly from his back before folding neatly beneath his coat. His black cane, topped with a crimson apple, tapped lightly against the ground as he strode forward.

"All right," Lucifer said, his voice smooth and melodic, yet carrying an unmistakable authority. "That's quite enough."

The crowd froze.

Outside the cage, the Sins—normally the most feared and respected in Hell—went wide-eyed at the sight of Lucifer. Even Satan, despite his rage and humiliation, stiffened beneath Spawn's weight, his molten eyes narrowing in a mix of frustration and reluctant respect.

From their spot near the sins, Blitzo, Millie, Moxxie, Loona, Fizzarolli, Verosika, and her crew stared at the scene in confusion.

"Uh..." Blitzo started, squinting at Lucifer. "Who's the clown in the ringmaster outfit?"

Before anyone could respond, Asmodeus leaned over and delivered a sharp elbow to Blitzo's ribs, making him grunt.

"Watch your tongue, Blitzø," Asmodeus hissed, his neon green eyes wide with alarm. "That's Lucifer Morningstar. The real King of Hell."

Blitzo's jaw dropped, his usual bravado faltering. "Him?" he asked incredulously. "The big guy? I thought he'd be taller."

"Shut up, Blitz," Millie whispered fiercely, though she couldn't hide the awe in her voice.

Moxxie adjusted his tie nervously, his wide eyes fixed on Lucifer. "So that's... the actual king of hell?" he murmured, his voice tinged with reverence. "The father of Hell itself?"

Even Loona, who rarely showed much interest in anything, tilted her head slightly. "Doesn't look like much," she muttered, though her tone was more cautious than dismissive.

Back inside the cage, Lucifer's crimson gaze swept over the scene. He took in the fallen horn, Spawn standing tall with his axe raised, and Satan's smoldering fury with a calm that bordered on unsettling.

"Satan," Lucifer said, his voice still measured but carrying a faint edge of disappointment. "You've let this go far enough."

Satan growled low in his throat, the chain wrapped around his mouth rattling as he struggled against Spawn's weight.

Lucifer turned his attention to Spawn, his expression unreadable. "And you," he said, his tone sharper but not unkind. "Impressive, I'll admit. But you've made your point."

Spawn didn't move, his glowing green eyes locking onto Lucifer's. "He started it," he said coldly, his voice unwavering.

Lucifer raised a pale eyebrow, the faintest hint of a smirk flickering across his face. "True," he said, his voice tinged with dry humor. "But it's my job to end it."

With a graceful motion, he tapped his cane lightly against the ground, and the air in the arena seemed to still. The flames around the cage dimmed further, and an almost tangible sense of calm settled over the space.

"Satan," Lucifer said, his voice dropping into a more commanding tone, "stand down. This spectacle has gone on long enough."

The molten fury in Satan's eyes flared brighter, but he didn't resist. His body trembled with suppressed rage, but he slowly began to loosen his stance, acknowledging the authority of the true King of Hell.

Lucifer returned his attention to Spawn, his gaze piercing yet oddly respectful. "You've proven yourself, Spawn," he said. "But this ends now. Step down."

The arena was silent, every spectator holding their breath as the most powerful figure in Hell took control.

For a moment, Spawn stood unmoving, his glowing green eyes fixed on Lucifer. The tension in the arena was palpable as everyone held their breath, waiting to see if the Hellspawn would comply.

Then, with a faint hum of necroplasmic energy, Spawn's Axe of Agony disappeared from his hands. His chain retracted from Satan's mouth with a metallic rattle, and Spawn stepped back, his imposing stance unrelenting.

He glanced down at Satan, who was still sprawled on the ground, clutching the stump where his horn had been. Spawn's voice was low and dripping with menace as he spoke. "You're lucky he showed up," he growled, jerking his head toward Lucifer. "Because if he hadn't, I would've fed you to my suit."

Lucifer's expression didn't change, his crimson eyes watching intently as the two combatants separated. He gave a slight nod of approval, his cane tapping lightly against the obsidian floor as he stepped forward.

"Good," Lucifer said smoothly. "Now that we've regained a semblance of civility, let's get to the heart of this matter, shall we?"

He turned first to Satan, his sharp teeth glinting faintly as his expression hardened. "Tell me," Lucifer said, his voice calm but commanding, "in your own words, what happened here."

Satan hesitated for a moment, his molten eyes narrowing as he pushed himself to his feet. His massive frame loomed over Lucifer, but the King of Hell remained completely unphased, his crimson gaze unwavering.

Satan growled low in his throat before speaking. "This sinner," he began, his voice trembling with barely suppressed rage, "broke Hell's laws. He killed a Hellborn—Crimson—and traveled between the rings when he should have been confined to Pentagram City."

Lucifer tilted his head slightly, his expression thoughtful as he listened. "Go on," he said, gesturing with his cane.

Satan's molten claws flexed as he continued, his voice growing louder. "He defied our laws and our hierarchy. A trial was called, and he refused to plead. Instead, he mocked me—mocked me!—and escalated this farce into a trial by combat."

Lucifer's expression remained unreadable, though his wings twitched slightly as he processed Satan's explanation. He nodded once, his voice calm. "Thank you for your... colorful account," he said dryly.

He turned next to Spawn, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly. "And now, let's hear it from you, Spawn," Lucifer said. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Spawn stepped forward, his glowing green eyes locked onto Lucifer's with unflinching confidence. His voice was cold and measured as he spoke. "Crimson wasn't just some Hellborn," he began. "He was a monster. He kidnapped his own son, Moxxie, and tried to use me to kill Mammon so he could take over the Greed Ring."

Lucifer raised an eyebrow at this, his expression curious but restrained.

"I refused," Spawn continued. "Instead, I took Crimson down and got Moxxie out of there. Killing him wasn't just the right thing to do—it was the only thing to do. People like him don't deserve anything less."

He gestured around the cage with a sharp motion of his hand. "As for this little circus? It's just Satan throwing a tantrum because someone dared to stand up to him."

The room fell silent again, the weight of Spawn's words hanging heavily in the air.

Lucifer's gaze shifted between the two combatants, his expression unreadable as he processed everything he'd heard. Finally, he exhaled softly, his voice calm but firm. "Well," he said, "this certainly has been an eventful day."

He glanced over his shoulder at the Sins, his sharp teeth glinting faintly. "And what do the rest of you have to say about all this?"

The tension in the arena was far from over, but the balance of power had shifted entirely to Lucifer's hands.

As the silence hung in the arena, Beelzebub was the first to step forward, her molten hair swirling with determination. She wasted no time in speaking, her voice clear and confident.

"With all due respect, Lu," Beelzebub began, her hot-pink pupils narrowing slightly, "Spawn didn't come to my ring uninvited. He only ended up there because Mammon forced him into the Greed Ring. Something about trying to strike a deal to make Spawn-themed merchandise."

Lucifer's eyes shifted to Beelzebub, and then to Mammon, his sharp brows raising slightly. "Merchandise?" he repeated, his tone laced with mild curiosity and disapproval. "Is that true, Mammon?"

All eyes turned to Mammon, who looked distinctly uncomfortable. The rotund, four-armed Sin chuckled nervously, tugging at his jester collar. "W-Well, yeah, but it wasn't, like, a big deal," he stammered. "Just thought it'd be good business, ya know? I mean, the guy's got a marketable look."

Mammon hesitated, then crossed his arms with a huff. "But let's not forget, he insulted me. Called me fat. In front of everyone. Humiliated me in my own ring!"

Lucifer tilted his head slightly, his slit-pupiled eyes narrowing as he considered Mammon's words. His lips curled into a faint, amused smirk as he replied simply, "Well, Mammon... you are fat."

The arena erupted into scattered laughter and murmurs, several spectators struggling to contain their amusement. Even Beelzebub couldn't hide her smirk, her molten tail flicking with satisfaction.

Mammon's face twisted into an indignant scowl, his neon green eyes narrowing as he muttered under his breath, "Yeah, well, screw you too."

Lucifer's gaze shifted next to Asmodeus, who stepped forward with his usual suave confidence. "As for me," Asmodeus said smoothly, his glowing neon green eyes locking onto Lucifer's, "I'll admit, I didn't know how Spawn got to my ring. But once he was there? He was welcome anytime."

Lucifer arched an eyebrow, his expression curious. "Oh? And why is that?"

Asmodeus spread his arms, his voice calm and assured. "Because he got rid of two problems I'd been dealing with for far too long: Crimson and Valentino. Spawn did what no one else could. He cleaned house, so to speak. And I, for one, have no complaints."

Beelzebub nodded in agreement, her voice warm. "Same here. Spawn's the reason we're not dealing with Crimson anymore. He might not play by the rules, but sometimes, that's exactly what's needed."

Lucifer listened intently, his crimson eyes flicking between the two Sins. His expression was unreadable, but the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"Well," Lucifer said finally, his voice calm and even, "it seems Spawn has made quite the impression."

His gaze shifted back to Spawn, who stood silently, his glowing green eyes unwavering. "Not many can walk through the rings of Hell and leave such... polarizing opinions in their wake."

The tension in the arena thickened once more as everyone awaited Lucifer's judgment, the weight of his words settling heavily over the crowd.

"Before I go any further," Lucifer said, his tone deceptively light but carrying a razor-sharp edge, "tell me something, Satan. Why wasn't I informed about this trial?"

Satan stiffened, his molten claws flexing as he tried to compose himself. For a moment, he was at a loss for words, his molten eyes darting toward the other Sins as though searching for support.

"I... I didn't want to bother you," Satan said finally, his voice strained but attempting to sound casual. "You've got bigger things to worry about. I thought I could handle this myself."

Lucifer tilted his head slightly, his golden crown-like hat glinting faintly in the dim light. "Oh, how considerate of you," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He tapped his cane lightly against the ground, the sound echoing through the arena. "But you see, Satan, someone did bother me."

Satan's molten eyes widened slightly, and a murmur rippled through the crowd.

Lucifer smiled faintly, though it didn't reach his eyes. "I received a rather interesting link," he continued. "To a charming little site called Underworld Uploads—you know, the one where Hell's most unsavory moments get plastered for all to see?"

Satan's molten skin flared brighter, his body tensing as he tried to maintain his composure.

Lucifer leaned in slightly, his crimson eyes gleaming. "It was an audio recording," he said. "Of our friend here—" he gestured to Spawn, who stood silently, his glowing green eyes unflinching—"recounting how you've been trying to rewrite history. Specifically, making it seem like you were the original ruler of Hell."

The murmurs grew louder as the weight of Lucifer's words sank in.

Satan's claws twitched, and his wings flared slightly as he growled low in his throat. "It's not—" he began, but Lucifer cut him off with a sharp motion of his cane.

"Ah, ah," Lucifer said, his tone now laced with cold authority. "Before you dig yourself into a deeper hole, let me ask you directly: is it true?"

Satan's molten eyes narrowed, his body trembling with suppressed rage. For a moment, he said nothing, the silence in the arena stretching unbearably.

Before Satan could respond, Asmodeus stepped forward, his neon green eyes glowing brightly. "It's true, Lu," he said smoothly. "He's been pushing that story for years. I didn't say anything because... well, I didn't think you cared."

Beelzebub followed suit, her molten tail flicking with nervous energy. "Same here," she added, her voice firm but tinged with unease. "We didn't want to stir the pot, but yeah, Satan's been trying to rewrite the narrative. Acting like he's always been the ruler of Hell, like you just got here after hell was made."

Lucifer turned back to Satan, his crimson eyes narrowing further. "Anything to say for yourself?" he asked coldly.

Satan's wings folded tightly against his back, and his molten claws flexed as he struggled to find the right words. "I... It wasn't like that," he growled, his voice defensive. "I just thought it would make things simpler if—"

"If what?" Lucifer interrupted, his voice rising slightly. "If you erased me from history?" His forked tongue flicked out briefly as his tone turned mocking. "I've been accused of many things, but I never thought I'd live to see the day when one of my own tried to write me out of existence."

The weight of Lucifer's words hit like a hammer, and Satan visibly recoiled. The other Sins, save for Mammon, who was nervously fiddling with his jester's collar, exchanged uneasy glances.

Spawn's lips curled into a faint smirk as he watched the exchange, his glowing green eyes glinting with satisfaction.

Lucifer straightened, his cane tapping against the ground once more. "Let's be clear about something, Satan," he said, his voice cutting through the murmurs like a blade. "I may not always involve myself in Hell's politics, but I am still the King of Hell. And I will not tolerate insubordination—especially not from you."

The arena fell silent again, the tension so thick it was almost suffocating.


Outside the arena, the crowd of spectators buzzed with confusion and curiosity. The mention of Underworld Uploads had sparked a ripple of unease among them.

"Okay, hold up," Blitzo muttered, glancing around at the gathered onlookers. "How the hell did that get uploaded? I mean, I wasn't filming anything, and I never go near that trashy site."

Moxxie adjusted his tie nervously, his brows furrowing. "Neither did I," he said, his voice cautious. "And honestly, I wouldn't even know where to start with something like that."

Millie tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. "Same here. I mean, we've been watching everything, but none of us had our phones out, right?"

Loona, leaning casually against the invisible barrier, rolled her eyes. "Please," she said flatly. "You think anyone here has the guts to whip out their phone while Spawn and Satan are throwing down? That's a death wish."

Blitzo crossed his arms, glancing at the other spectators. "So if it wasn't any of us," he muttered, his tail flicking sharply, "then who the hell did it?"

The group exchanged uneasy glances, but none of them noticed Belphegor standing off to the side, her half-lidded eyes averted.

The Sin of Sloth, leaning lazily against a nearby column, yawned softly as though she hadn't been paying attention. Her slow, deliberate movements betrayed nothing, but her gaze briefly flicked toward the arena, her expression unreadable.

Belphegor's fingers brushed against the edge of her robe, where the faintest glimmer of a hidden phone disappeared into a concealed pocket. She said nothing, her typically apathetic demeanor unchanged, but the slightest hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth.

Back in the crowd, Verosika crossed her arms, her pink eyes narrowing suspiciously. "I avoid that site like the plague," she said, her tone sharp. "Too much drama, even for me."

Fizzarolli let out a low chuckle, his mechanical arms folding as he leaned back. "Guess someone thought it'd be a riot to leak it," he said, his voice dripping with amusement. "And boy, did it pay off."

Blitzo shot him a glare. "Yeah, because this circus needed more chaos," he said sarcastically, gesturing toward the ongoing confrontation in the arena.

Asmodeus's deep voice cut through the murmurs from his spot among the Sins. "Whoever uploaded it knew exactly what they were doing," he said, his neon green eyes glinting. "And if I had to guess, they wanted this confrontation."

Belphegor let out another soft yawn, her eyes closing briefly as she leaned more heavily against the column. "What a mess," she murmured under her breath, her voice barely audible.

The crowd's attention remained focused on the mystery, but Belphegor's subtle smirk lingered, unnoticed by the others.


The crowd fell silent as Lucifer Morningstar turned his full attention to Satan, his crimson eyes blazing with a rare intensity. His usual flamboyant demeanor had been replaced by something far more unsettling: genuine displeasure.

Lucifer strode forward, his cane tapping rhythmically against the cracked obsidian floor. Each step seemed to echo louder than the last, amplifying the weight of his presence. As he came to a stop in front of Satan, his gaze flicked briefly to the broken horn lying on the ground, then back to Satan's molten eyes.

"You know," Lucifer began, his smooth voice carrying a sharp edge, "I left you in charge for a reason."

Satan straightened slightly, his molten claws twitching at his sides. "To handle things," Lucifer continued, his tone growing colder. "To keep Hell running smoothly while I... sorted out a few things in my own life."

Lucifer's wings flared slightly, the red-tipped feathers casting faint shadows across the ground. "I did not leave you in charge," he said, his voice rising, "so you could play pretender to the throne."

Satan flinched, the molten streaks on his skin dimming slightly under Lucifer's withering glare.

Lucifer took another step closer as he gestured toward the shattered horn lying nearby. "And now," he said, his voice laced with disdain, "it looks like your bullshit has finally caught up with you."

The sharp words hung in the air, the weight of them pressing down on the arena like a physical force.

Satan's molten eyes narrowed, his wings twitching as he tried to maintain some semblance of composure. "It's not like that," he growled, his voice defensive. "I was just trying to—"

"To what?" Lucifer interrupted sharply, his cane tapping against the ground. "Rewrite history? Erase my name? Pretend I never existed?"

Satan growled low in his throat, but he didn't respond. The molten streaks on his body pulsed faintly, a clear sign of his suppressed anger.

Lucifer's expression didn't waver, his crimson eyes boring into Satan's with unflinching authority. "Let me make one thing abundantly clear," he said, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "I am the King of Hell. I built it and shaped it. And no amount of lies or manipulation will change that."

The silence that followed was deafening, the spectators and Sins alike frozen in stunned anticipation.

Lucifer's gaze flicked once more to the fallen horn, and a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Though," he added, his tone turning faintly mocking, "I must admit, the visual metaphor is rather poetic."

The crowd exchanged uneasy glances, and even Spawn couldn't help but let out a low chuckle, his glowing green eyes glinting with amusement.

Lucifer's smirk vanished as quickly as it had appeared, replaced once again by his cold, calculating expression. He straightened, his eyes narrowing as he addressed Satan one last time. "You've embarrassed yourself, Satan," he said firmly. "And by extension, you've embarrassed Hell. I hope you're prepared to deal with the consequences."

The weight of Lucifer's words hung heavy in the air, leaving no doubt that the King of Hell was not done handing out judgment.

After delivering his biting words to Satan, Lucifer turned his attention back to Spawn, his eyes narrowing slightly. The tension in the arena shifted as the King of Hell addressed the Hellspawn directly.

"Well," Lucifer began, his tone smoother but still heavy with authority, "I'll admit, Spawn, you've certainly made an impression. However—" his sharp teeth glinted faintly as he spoke—"you've also broken quite a few laws."

Spawn's glowing green eyes met Lucifer's unflinchingly, his stance unwavering. "I had my reasons," Spawn said coldly.

"I'm sure you did," Lucifer replied, his voice calm but firm. "And while I may sympathize with some of those reasons, the fact remains: laws were broken, and there must be consequences."

Lucifer's cane tapped lightly against the ground as he continued. "But," he said, his voice growing sharper, "this circus of a trial will not be where those judgments are made."

The crowd exchanged murmurs, their confusion and curiosity growing. Even the Sins leaned forward slightly, their expressions ranging from intrigue to suspicion.

Lucifer raised a hand, silencing the whispers. "As the actual King of Hell," he said pointedly, his gaze flicking briefly to Satan before returning to Spawn, "I will deliver judgment myself. And it will not be here, in front of prying eyes and hungry gossipmongers. It will be at my palace, away from all this noise."

A ripple of unease swept through the spectators. Lucifer's palace was a place few ever saw, and fewer still returned from.

Before anyone could speak, Satan stepped forward, his molten claws flexing as he growled, "The rule of law needs to apply the same way to everyone, Lucifer. Even sinners like him."

Lucifer's expression darkened, his crimson eyes flashing dangerously as he turned to face Satan. "You're in no position to make demands, Satan," he said, his voice cold and cutting. "Or have you already forgotten the spectacle you've made of yourself today?"

Satan flinched, the molten streaks on his body dimming slightly under Lucifer's withering glare.

Lucifer straightened, his wings unfurling slightly as he addressed the crowd. "Let this be a reminder to all of you," he said, his voice resonating through the arena. "I am the King of Hell. I decide how things are handled. And my decisions are final."

His gaze shifted back to Spawn, his expression unreadable. "We'll settle this privately," Lucifer said firmly. "And I'll be the one to decide your fate."

Spawn didn't respond immediately, his glowing green eyes narrowing slightly as he studied Lucifer. Finally, he gave a curt nod, his voice low but steady. "Fine."

Lucifer stood tall, his eyes flicking briefly toward Spawn. With a casual snap of his gloved fingers, another swirling portal of crimson and gold materialized in the center of the arena. The energy radiating from it felt ancient, commanding, and impossible to ignore.

He turned back to Spawn, his sharp teeth forming a faint smile that carried more weight than warmth. "After you," Lucifer said, his tone polite but leaving no room for argument.

Spawn hesitated for only a moment, his glowing green eyes narrowing as he studied the portal. Though his instincts urged him to remain cautious, he could sense that refusing Lucifer's invitation wasn't an option. With a slight tilt of his head, he stepped forward, his chains rattling faintly as he disappeared into the swirling vortex.

Lucifer watched him go, his smirk lingering as he turned back to the crowd. His gaze swept over the spectators and the Sins, pausing briefly on each face as though committing every detail to memory.

"Don't go anywhere," Lucifer said smoothly, his tone deceptively light. "I'll be back shortly. Once we're finished, I'll have a few... final thoughts to share."

With that, he stepped through the portal himself, the crimson-and-gold swirl collapsing into nothingness behind him.

The arena fell silent for a moment, the weight of Lucifer's departure hanging heavily in the air. The spectators and Sins exchanged uneasy glances, the tension palpable.

Finally, Satan broke the silence, his molten claws flexing as he turned to the other Sins. "Not a word," he growled, his molten eyes flaring as his wings twitched angrily. "Not one word."

For a moment, no one moved. Then, with a dramatic flourish, Asmodeus stepped forward, his neon green eyes glinting with mischief.

"Well," he said loudly, his deep voice dripping with mockery. "I think it's safe to say you just got told."

The crowd erupted into murmurs and faint laughter, some spectators struggling to suppress their amusement while others openly chuckled.

Beelzebub, standing nearby, let out a low, buzzing laugh, her molten hair flicking as she smirked at Satan. "You've got to admit," she said, her tone teasing, "he's not wrong."

Satan's molten skin flared brighter, his claws digging into the ground as he glared at the two of them. "Enough," he snarled, his voice trembling with barely suppressed rage.

But the damage was already done. The other Sins exchanged knowing looks, their silence speaking volumes.

Despite Satan's attempts to regain control, the balance of power had shifted irreversibly—and everyone knew it.