I'm The Devil - Chapter 348
Chapter 348: Family Meeting
The city, the broken streets, the rain—all of it vanished.
In the blink of an eye, they were elsewhere.
God had made a space that wasn’t a place at all. No walls, no sky, no ground—just endless light layered with shadows that curved like galaxies. A table stretched across it, long enough that it seemed to split eternity in half. At it sat every one of His children, summoned whether they wanted it or not.
Lucifer leaned back in his chair, legs crossed, crimson eyes still lit from the fight. Michael sat across from him, battered but upright, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword though it hummed faint, tired sparks. The air between them was tight, like one wrong word would split the table in two.
Around them, the others filled their seats.
Bariel, heavy-shouldered, face round and flushed, a glutton even in spirit form, fingers tapping against the table like he was bored of waiting. Coriel, slouched low with his hood half-covering his eyes, movements sluggish, but her gaze sharp enough to cut through anyone who underestimated him. Asmodeus, smirking with restless fingers drumming, the scent of temptation curling around him like perfume. Moronuel, lean and sharp-eyed, lips twisted in envy at everything around him. Amiel, greedy to the bone, her hands folded but twitching as if itching to claim something—anything—that wasn’t his.
Opposite them sat the archangels. Gabriel, silent, wings folded, his expression unreadable. Raphael, arms crossed, bruises still fresh from the fight but his jaw set. Uriel, eyes downcast but glowing faint with thought, always the one to seek meaning. Azrael, calm and cold, face unreadable in the pale light.
And then there was Ariel.
She was different from the others—her hair white as starlight, her eyes a burning sapphire. No warmth. No forgiveness. She carried herself upright, wings sharp and shimmering like crystal blades. Every glance she threw across the table toward Lucifer dripped with venom. She did not hide it.
Next to her, the three who no longer bore Heaven’s glow but something else. Exousia, Adriel, and Ophiel.
And at the head of the table sat their Father.
His presence wasn’t loud. It wasn’t even blinding. It was… simple. But heavier than anything in the room. Every word He spoke pressed into their bones.
He looked over them all.
“My children.” His voice filled the void, calm but cutting. “You know why you are here. The time has come.”
No one moved. The silence was heavy.
God’s gaze lingered, slow, moving across each of them. Then He said it.
“I will retire.”
The words rippled. Not as sound, but as weight. The table shivered under the force.
Ariel stiffened, her voice sharp. “Father, you cannot. You are the only order in this chaos.”
Lucifer laughed low, leaning forward on one elbow. “Finally. Took you long enough to admit you’re tired of the game.”
Michael’s eyes narrowed. “Watch your tongue.”
“Or what?” Lucifer grinned, baring teeth. “You’ll shove me again?”
“Silence.” God’s word cut through them, and both brothers froze.
He folded His hands. “The throne cannot remain empty. One of you must take My place.”
The sins leaned forward almost at once. Amiel’s eyes burned, fingers twitching. “And what of us? Do we not have the same claim?”
Bariel smirked, licking his lips. “God of feasts and famine—has a ring to it.”
Ariel slammed her hand against the table, wings flaring sharp as glass. “You? You filthy fallen things think yourselves worthy?” She snapped her gaze at Lucifer, hate thick in her eyes. “Especially you. I would sooner see the stars burn out than kneel before you.”
Lucifer tilted his head, grin curling wider. “Careful, sister. You’re starting to sound like me.”
Her eyes narrowed into slits.
Uriel’s voice cut in, soft but steady. “Father, is this truly Your will? To pit us against each other for Your seat?”
God’s expression did not change. “It is not I who pits you against each other. It is what you are. What you always have been.”
Gabriel finally spoke, his voice low. “Then this is a test. Not of strength, but of spirit.”
Azrael gave a faint smile. “Spirit dies faster than flesh in war.”
Asmodeus leaned back, smirking. “Spirit, flesh, power—does it matter? The throne belongs to whoever can take it.”
Moronuel’s eyes burned with envy as he hissed, “And I’ll not see it rest on wings while we sit in shadow.”
The cultivators stayed quiet, but their auras hummed faint. Exousia’s eyes flicked to Lucifer, then to Michael, as though already calculating outcomes. Adriel sat still as stone. Ophiel leaned forward, his voice rough. “If Father steps down, the world will tremble no matter who sits the throne.”
Ariel turned her glare on them next. “You—fallen imitators. You betrayed your wings, and now you dare to sit among us as if you belong?”
Exousia didn’t flinch. “We are not angels. But that does not mean we are any less siblings of the same father.”
Lucifer chuckled, spreading his arms. “And still you hate me most, Ariel. Should I be flattered?”
Her hand twitched, as though she wanted to strike him across the table.
Michael’s voice rose over the tension, steady, commanding. “Enough. This is not a feast for the damned. This is Father’s will. If there must be a successor, it should be one who has guarded His law, not broken it.”
Lucifer leaned forward, crimson eyes burning. “And yet you failed to stop the monster tonight. I saw you bleed, Michael. Saw you fall. And who stood while you gasped in the dirt? Me.”
“You fought for yourself,” Michael spat.
“I fought,” Lucifer said simply.
God raised His hand, silencing them all. His voice was calm, but it carried weight that even Lucifer bowed to.
“The throne will not be taken by claim, nor by old sins, nor by my favor. It will be earned. Each of you will show who you are when power is placed within reach. Only then will we see who deserves to rule.”
The table shook with quiet murmurs. Some with hunger. Some with fear. Some with rage.
Lucifer leaned back in his chair, smirk returning slow. “So… a game after all.”
Michael’s grip tightened on his blade.
Ariel’s eyes never left Lucifer, her loathing burning hotter than any fire.
And God sat still at the head of the table, watching them all.
Silent.
Waiting.
And the light around them trembled, as though even creation was holding its breath.