The faint hum of energy filled the air as another portal tore open near the edge of the arena. All eyes turned toward it as Charlie and Vaggie stumbled through, the swirling vortex closing behind them.

Charlie's golden eyes immediately swept over the room, taking in the cracked obsidian floor, the faint scorch marks, and the shattered remains of Satan's horn lying on the ground. Her worry deepened as she saw the tense and uneasy expressions on the faces of the Seven Sins and the small crowd of spectators.

"What happened?" Charlie asked, her voice trembling with concern.

The tension in the room shifted as Asmodeus and Beelzebub spotted her, their expressions brightening.

"Charlie!" Beelzebub buzzed, her molten hair swirling with excitement. "It's been years since we've seen you in person!"

Asmodeus stepped forward, his massive frame towering over the crowd. "How have you been, darling?" he asked warmly, his neon green eyes glinting with genuine affection.

Charlie barely registered their greetings, her worry overriding everything else. "Where's my father?" she asked urgently, her voice rising slightly. "And Al? Where are they?"

Beelzebub tilted her head, her molten tail flicking. "They just stepped out," she said casually. "Your dad said he'd be back once he's done."

"No, no, no! That's not what I wanted," Charlie said, her tone sharp as her hands clenched into fists. Her worry was quickly spiraling into frustration.

She turned to Vaggie, who placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Calm down, Charlie," Vaggie said softly. "We'll figure this out."

But Charlie wasn't listening. She began pacing, her golden eyes darting nervously as her thoughts raced. "He's going to do something rash," she muttered, her voice trembling. "I know it. Why didn't he tell me what he was going to do?"

Before anyone could respond, Satan stepped forward, his molten claws flexing as he attempted to regain control of the situation. "Princess Morningstar," he began, his tone laced with condescension, "allow me to explain—"

Charlie stopped abruptly, her golden eyes snapping to him with a fiery intensity. "Explain?" she interrupted, her voice rising. "Explain what, exactly? That this is all your fault?"

Satan flinched slightly as Charlie's frustration boiled over.

"You're the reason this whole mess started!" Charlie exclaimed, her voice shaking with anger. "You let it spiral out of control, and now my father has to clean it up!"

Her anger began to manifest physically. A pair of dark maroon horns erupted from her head, curving back gracefully. Her eyes shifted, the sclera turning a deep crimson with white irises and slit pupils. Thin black streaks spread across each eye, adding to the sharp intensity of her gaze.

Her fingers darkened, turning black and claw-like as she clenched her fists, and a long, spiked black tail emerged, flicking behind her. At its tip, a red heart-shaped marking glowed faintly. Her elongated, butterfly-like lashes fluttered with every heated word.

The room fell silent as everyone froze, staring at her transformed state. Even Satan, who rarely felt intimidated, found himself stepping back slightly under her fiery gaze.

Before her tirade could escalate further, Vaggie stepped in, placing both hands firmly on Charlie's shoulders. "Charlie, stop," Vaggie said gently but firmly, her lavender eye filled with concern.

Charlie's breathing was heavy, and for a moment, it seemed she might not listen. But as her gaze met Vaggie's, the warmth and steadiness in her partner's eye slowly broke through her anger.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Charlie's demonic features began to fade. Her horns receded, her claws softened into fingers, and her golden eyes returned to their usual color. The black streaks across her face vanished, leaving her looking more like herself again.

"I'm sorry," Charlie murmured, her voice trembling as she hugged herself tightly. "I just... I'm so worried about Al. I don't know what's happening to him."

Vaggie gave her a reassuring squeeze. "We'll figure it out," she said softly. "Your father may not be perfect, but he won't let anything happen to Spawn. Trust me."

Charlie nodded slowly, though the worry in her eyes hadn't faded. She glanced around the room, taking in the faces of the Sins, the spectators, and the broken courtroom. "This isn't over," she whispered, her voice filled with quiet determination.

As Charlie took a shaky breath, her golden eyes still glistening with worry, Beelzebub and Asmodeus approached her, their usual playful energy tempered with genuine care.

"Hey, Charlie," Beelzebub said softly, her molten hair glowing faintly as she placed a comforting hand on Charlie's shoulder. Her usual buzzing voice was gentler than usual, her hot-pink pupils filled with concern. "It's been a while, huh?"

Charlie glanced up at her, the corners of her mouth twitching into a faint, strained smile. "Yeah," she said quietly. "Too long."

Beelzebub crouched slightly to meet Charlie's gaze, her molten tail flicking gently behind her. "I know it's hard not to worry," she said, her voice warm and steady. "But listen, your dad might have been flexing his power and making a big show of things, but he's not unreasonable. Especially when it comes to the things you care about."

Charlie's brow furrowed slightly as she looked away, her arms still hugging herself. "I don't know," she murmured. "Sometimes it feels like he doesn't really listen. Like he's so caught up in his own world that he doesn't see what's important to me."

Beelzebub smiled gently, her molten hand giving Charlie's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Charlie, he showed up here. For you," she said. "He's trying. I know it's not always easy to see, but he cares. And trust me, he's not going to let anything happen to Spawn. Not if it would hurt you."

Charlie hesitated, her golden eyes flicking back to Beelzebub.

Beside her, Asmodeus stepped forward, his imposing frame towering over both of them. His glowing neon green eyes softened as he spoke. "Bee's right," he said, his voice deep but comforting. "Your dad's not perfect—who is? But when it comes to you, Charlie, he'll move Hell and Earth to make sure you're okay. Spawn included."

Asmodeus gave her a small smile, his feathered mane shifting slightly. "And let's not forget," he added with a wink, "you've got us, too. We're always here for you, even if we don't get to see you as much as we'd like."

Charlie's lips quivered slightly, her eyes misting over as she looked at the two Sins. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Both of you. It means a lot."

Beelzebub straightened, her molten tail flicking playfully. "Anytime, girl," she said, her tone lightening. "Now, take a deep breath, okay? Your dad's got this."

Charlie nodded, her breathing evening out as she wiped at her eyes. While the worry in her heart hadn't fully subsided, the presence of Beelzebub and Asmodeus gave her a small measure of comfort.

Vaggie, standing by her side, gave the two Sins a grateful nod. "Thank you," she said softly, her lavender eye glinting with appreciation.

The room slowly settled into an uneasy calm, though the lingering tension was still palpable. Charlie glanced toward where the portal had disappeared, her golden eyes filled with a mixture of hope and trepidation.

"Please," she whispered under her breath, "just let everything be okay."


As Spawn stepped through the swirling portal, he found himself in Lucifer's palace, and it was every bit as grand as he expected from someone with the title of King of Hell. The towering ceilings, polished obsidian floors, and gilded decorations screamed wealth and authority. Tapestries lined the walls, each depicting scenes from Hell's history, its creation, and its denizens in stunning detail.

But what completely threw him off was the sheer number of rubber ducks scattered throughout the palace.

They were everywhere. Shelves upon shelves of them lined the walls, and they weren't just generic ducks. There were ducks dressed as knights, ducks with angel wings, ducks painted to look like flames, and even a few with miniature crowns and tiny scepters. One particularly large duck floated in the center of an ornate fountain, its surface shimmering with molten gold.

Spawn paused, his glowing green eyes narrowing as he surveyed the bizarre display. "This is... unexpected," he muttered.

Behind him, Lucifer Morningstar strolled in, his cane tapping against the floor as he approached. His flamboyant air had returned, though there was a sharpness to his smile that betrayed the seriousness lurking beneath.

"Ah, yes," Lucifer said, gesturing grandly at the collection. "The ducks. A personal passion of mine. Some say it's eccentric, but I prefer to call it... charming."

He plucked a nearby duck from the shelf, holding it up for Spawn to see. This one was black and white, with glowing eyes and tiny painted chains wrapped around its body.

"I've even been working on one inspired by you," Lucifer said with a smirk. "What do you think? Captures your whole... menacing aesthetic, wouldn'tyou say?"

Spawn stared at the duck for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "You made a rubber duck... of me," he said flatly.

"Of course," Lucifer said cheerfully. "I make one for anyone who intrigues me. Consider it a high honor."

Spawn's lips twitched, though it wasn't clear if it was amusement or irritation. "Right," he said, his tone neutral as he looked away, taking in more of the palace.

Lucifer returned the duck to its place on the shelf, clasping his hands around his cane as his expression shifted to something more serious. He turned to face Spawn fully, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly.

"Now then," Lucifer said, his tone calm but sharp, "let's talk."

He took a step closer, his wings rustling faintly beneath his coat. "To start: What the fuck?" he asked, his voice carrying a dangerous undertone despite the bluntness of the words.

Spawn raised an eyebrow, his glowing green eyes narrowing. "What are you getting at?"

Lucifer gestured vaguely with his cane, his sharp teeth glinting faintly as his voice took on a note of exasperation. "I mean, how does a sinner—someone who, by all accounts, should be trapped in Pentagram City—not only traverse the rings of Hell unassisted but also take on someone like Satan and turn him into a laughingstock?"

Spawn's gaze hardened, though his expression remained unreadable. "I didn't plan any of this," he said evenly. "Things just... escalated."

Lucifer's eyes narrowed further as he studied Spawn intently, his expression unreadable. "Escalated," he repeated, his voice dripping with skepticism. "Do you have any idea what kind of ripples you've created, Spawn? Taking down Crimson was one thing. Humiliating Mammon? That raised eyebrows. But taking on Satan and winning?"

Spawn didn't flinch, his glowing green eyes locking onto Lucifer's unflinchingly. "I'm not here to play politics," he said coldly. "I've dealt with worse than Satan, and I'll deal with whatever comes next."

Lucifer tilted his head slightly, his lips curling into a faint smirk. "Oh, I don't doubt that," he said smoothly. "But your actions have consequences, Spawn. And I need to understand how you managed all this before I decide how to deal with you."

The air in the room grew heavier, the tension thick as Lucifer's crimson gaze bore into Spawn's. "So, tell me," he said softly but firmly, "how did a sinner like you come to wield this kind of power?"

Spawn stood tall, his glowing green eyes narrowing as Lucifer's question hung in the air. The weight of the inquiry was clear, and Spawn could feel the King of Hell's piercing gaze boring into him, searching for answers.

But Spawn wasn't about to give him any.

He hadn't told anyone about where he was truly from, not even Charlie. And if there was anyone who had come close to earning his trust, it was her. She had chipped away at his walls in ways he hadn't thought possible, but even she didn't know the truth.

The reality was, Spawn didn't fully understand why he was here—or how. He had his theories, sure, but no definitive answers. And he wasn't about to start unraveling that mystery for Lucifer, of all people.

When Lucifer tilted his head, his sharp teeth glinting faintly as he waited for an answer, Spawn crossed his arms, his chains rattling slightly. "Does it matter?" Spawn said coldly, his voice sharp.

Lucifer's crimson eyes narrowed. "Oh, it matters," he said smoothly, his tone deceptively light. "Because sinners don't just stumble into power like yours. And they certainly don't walk through the rings of Hell or take on a Sin without... let's call it extraordinary circumstances."

Spawn clenched his fists, his necroplasm rippling faintly. "I didn't ask for your help back there in the arena," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "And I sure as hell don't owe you any explanations now."

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, his smirk fading slightly. His grip on his cane tightened, though his voice remained calm. "Interesting," he said, his wings shifting slightly beneath his coat. "You seem to be under the impression that this is a conversation between equals."

Spawn stepped forward, his imposing figure casting a shadow across the polished floor. "I don't care what you think this is," he said, his tone growing sharper. "You might be the King of Hell, but that doesn't mean a damn thing to me. You don't own me, and you don't scare me."

For a moment, the room fell deathly silent.

Lucifer's crimson eyes gleamed as his smirk returned, wider and sharper than before. "Oh, Spawn," he said, his voice low and almost amused. "You really don't understand, do you?"

He took a slow step closer, his cane tapping against the floor. "You may not owe me anything," Lucifer said softly, his tone carrying a dangerous edge. "But you're in my realm, playing by my rules. And I don't take kindly to unanswered questions."

The tension between them was palpable, the air thick with unspoken challenges.

Spawn's chains unfurled slightly, their metallic edges gleaming faintly in the dim light. "I didn't come here to play your games," he said, his voice steady. "So if you've got something to say, say it. Otherwise, we're done here."

Lucifer tilted his head, his smirk fading as his expression hardened. "Oh, we're far from done," he said, his eyes blazing. "But I'll give you credit for one thing, Spawn—you're certainly entertaining."

Spawn didn't flinch, his glowing green eyes steady as Lucifer's gaze burned into him. Unlike most in Hell, he didn't fear the Morningstar—not even a little. He'd faced the devil of his own world, defeated him, and countless other powerful entities. Lucifer might be the King of Hell here, but to Spawn, he was just another being with too much pride and not enough humility.

Instead of backing down, Spawn stepped closer, his chains rattling faintly as he spoke. "You don't like unanswered questions, huh?" he said, his tone sharp and challenging.

Lucifer's smirk faltered slightly, his eyes narrowing. "Not particularly," he replied smoothly, though there was a faint edge to his voice.

Spawn tilted his head, his glowing eyes glinting with a mix of defiance and curiosity. "Then why don't you tell Charlie the truth?" he asked, his voice low and cutting. "Why don't you tell her what really happened to her mother?"

The room seemed to darken, the oppressive weight of Lucifer's power pressing down like a storm about to break.

Lucifer's sharp teeth clenched briefly, his grip tightening around his cane as his wings rustled beneath his coat. For a moment, his composure cracked, the faintest flicker of anger flashing across his face.

"That," Lucifer said, his voice dangerously soft, "is none of your concern."

Spawn stepped closer still, his imposing figure casting a long shadow over Lucifer's slender form. "Oh, I think it is," Spawn said, his voice unrelenting. "You're so quick to poke around in other people's lives, demanding answers. But when it comes to your own mess? You bury it and hope no one digs it up."

Lucifer's eyes blazed, his smirk gone as his expression hardened into something far colder. "You're stepping into dangerous territory, Spawn," he said, his voice calm but carrying a deadly undertone.

Spawn's chains unfurled slightly, the metallic links rattling ominously as they moved. "Good," he said, his voice sharp. "I've made a career out of dangerous territory."

The tension between them was electric, the air heavy with unspoken challenges. Lucifer's grip on his cane tightened further, the golden apple at its tip catching the faint light.

The tension between Spawn and Lucifer was almost suffocating, the air thick with the unspoken possibility of a clash neither truly wanted. Their eyes locked, the energy in the room shifting slightly as each measured the other.

Lucifer exhaled softly, loosening his grip on his cane. His eyes softened slightly, the fiery intensity fading as he stepped back and gestured loosely with one gloved hand. "As entertaining as this little standoff is," he said, his tone more composed now, "I'm not here to fight you."

Spawn's glowing green eyes narrowed slightly, his chains retracting a fraction but still ready to strike. "Then why are you here?" he asked, his voice cold and skeptical.

Lucifer met his gaze, his expression uncharacteristically earnest. "Because Charlie asked me to," he said simply.

That caught Spawn off guard. He tilted his head slightly, the faintest flicker of surprise crossing his features before his stoic mask returned. "Charlie?" he repeated, his tone neutral but probing.

Lucifer nodded, his wings shifting slightly beneath his coat. "She's the only reason I came to that circus of a trial," he said. "When she called me, worried out of her mind, I knew I couldn't sit back and do nothing. For all my faults—and believe me, there are many—I value loyalty to my family above all else."

The weight of Lucifer's words hung in the air, the sincerity in his tone cutting through the lingering tension.

"I respect you, Spawn," Lucifer continued, his crimson eyes unwavering. "Not because of your power or the chaos you've stirred, but because you're loyal to her. You've earned her trust, and she believes in you."

Spawn's stance relaxed slightly, though his expression remained guarded. "I didn't do it for you," he said quietly.

Lucifer smiled faintly, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. "I know," he said. "And that's exactly why I respect you."

He stepped closer, his cane tapping lightly against the polished floor. "But," he added, his tone softening further, "you're a private man. I can see that. And normally, I wouldn't pry. But this isn't about me as the King of Hell. This is about me as a father."

Lucifer's eyes searched Spawn's glowing green ones, his voice lowering slightly. "I need to know who you really are—not to satisfy some royal curiosity, but to make sure my daughter isn't trusting someone who could hurt her."

Spawn's chains fell completely still, his glowing green eyes narrowing as he processed Lucifer's words. He could see the sincerity in the Morningstar's gaze, a rare vulnerability that spoke to the complicated relationship between father and daughter.

Lucifer stepped back slightly, giving Spawn space. "You've proven yourself to her, and maybe that should be enough," he said. "But Charlie's everything to me, Spawn. And I need to know she's safe."

For a moment, the room was silent, the tension between Spawn and Lucifer lingering but slowly giving way to something quieter. Something more personal.

Spawn's glowing green eyes softened ever so slightly as Lucifer's words hung in the air. The mention of family, of loyalty, struck a chord he hadn't expected. For all his bravado, Lucifer wasn't just some self-important ruler demanding answers. He was a father, trying to protect his child.

And in that moment, Spawn couldn't help but think of Terry and Cyan.

Terry Fitzgerald, his best friend. The man who had stepped in after his death, who had married Wanda and given her the life he couldn't. Who had given her the child she had always dreamed of: Cyan.

Cyan wasn't Spawn's daughter—he had to remind himself of that more times than he could count. But it didn't matter. From the shadows, he had watched over her, protected her, even if it meant risking everything. Because for all his bitterness, all his rage, there was a part of him that still understood what it meant to love and protect someone unconditionally.

He glanced at Lucifer, the faint glow of his necroplasm dimming slightly as he stood silently in thought. In an odd, unexpected way, he understood where the Morningstar was coming from.

Lucifer didn't interrupt the silence. He simply waited, his eyes studying Spawn with quiet patience.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Spawn spoke. His voice was low, rough, but steady.

"If you really want to know who I am," Spawn said, his glowing green eyes locking onto Lucifer's, "then I'll tell you. But you're not going to like it."

Lucifer tilted his head slightly, his sharp teeth glinting faintly as he smiled. "I'm not exactly known for liking much, Spawn," he said. "But I'm listening."

Spawn exhaled slowly, the chains at his sides retracting fully as he straightened. "Then we're going to have to start from the beginning," he said quietly.

The room grew still, the weight of Spawn's words hanging heavily in the air. Lucifer didn't respond immediately, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Take your time," Lucifer said, his tone calm but firm. "I'm not going anywhere."

Spawn nodded curtly, his glowing green eyes dimming slightly as he prepared himself to revisit the past he had long tried to bury.

As the weight of his decision settled, Spawn came to a realization: words wouldn't be enough. He had lived a life so far removed from anything Lucifer could imagine, and he knew the Morningstar would likely dismiss half of what he said as exaggeration or lies.

No, this wasn't a story to tell—it was a story to show.

Without a word, Spawn raised his clawed hand. With a slow, deliberate motion, he pierced his palm with his sharp fingers, the sound of tearing flesh barely audible. Dark, glowing necroplasm oozed from the wound, pulsating faintly with an unnatural energy.

Lucifer's eyes widened slightly, though his composed expression barely shifted. He took a step closer, his curiosity piqued.

"What are you doing?" Lucifer asked, his voice calm but laced with skepticism.

Spawn didn't flinch, holding his hand steady as the necroplasm continued to seep. "Words won't mean anything to you," he said evenly. "So I'm going to show you."

Lucifer tilted his head, his sharp teeth glinting faintly as he regarded the necroplasm with a mix of curiosity and wariness. "Show me?" he repeated, his tone skeptical. "And how exactly do you plan to do that?"

Spawn extended his hand toward Lucifer, his glowing green eyes meeting the Morningstar's unflinchingly. "Touch it," he said simply.

Lucifer hesitated, his eyes narrowing as he studied the faintly glowing substance. The energy radiating from it was unlike anything he had ever encountered in all his eons, and it set his instincts on edge.

"I'm not one to back away from the unknown," Lucifer said slowly, "but forgive me if I'm slightly wary of touching an oozing wound."

Spawn smirked faintly, though his voice remained steady. "If I wanted to hurt you, you'd already know it," he said. "This is the only way you'll understand."

Lucifer studied him for a long moment, his eyes flicking between Spawn's glowing green gaze and the necroplasm pulsing in his hand. Finally, with a small sigh, he reached out tentatively, his gloved fingers brushing against the substance.

The instant Lucifer's fingers made contact, the world around him shifted violently.