I'm The Devil - Chapter 349
Chapter 349: “Then I do not retire.”
The silence stretched long enough for tension to settle into everyone’s bones.
Lucifer, still lounging back in his chair, let the smirk on his lips fade into something tired. His crimson eyes drifted from face to face—Michael, Ariel, Gabriel’s flame, the princes of Hell, the cultivators, even the quiet Uriel—before shaking his head slowly.
“Y’know what?” he said. “I don’t want it.”
That cracked through the air like lightning.
Every gaze turned to him. Michael’s brow furrowed. Uriel blinked, surprised. Amiel’s lip curled like he’d tasted something sour. Ariel’s expression froze in disbelief.
Lucifer leaned forward, elbows on the polished table of divine light, his voice almost casual.
“You all can have your precious throne. Tear each other apart for it. Be my guest.” He waved a hand, loose and amused. “God Almighty? Sounds like a painfully dull job. Rules, structure, endless prayers. Honestly…” He stretched his arms out behind his head, cocking a brow. “I’d rather go back to Hell. At least the screams are honest there.”
A beat passed.
Michael exhaled, jaw tightening. “You mock everything.”
“I mock you,” Lucifer replied smoothly, not missing a beat. “And her.”
His eyes shifted to Ariel.
She didn’t flinch.
Her voice rang like a bell cracked in frost. “You don’t get to step away. Not after what you’ve done. You think you can walk into the room, throw knives into our backs, and then say you’re not interested?”
Lucifer’s gaze sharpened. “Didn’t throw anything this time.”
Ariel stood. Her wings flared wide, white and jagged like polished glass. The light reflected off her, sharp and perfect. She stepped forward, each movement clean and measured. But her voice trembled with restrained rage.
“You think this is a game. You think we all revolve around your theatrics. But the moment Father speaks of stepping down, you make it about yourself. Then pretend to be above it all.”
Lucifer said nothing at first. He just stared at her.
She took another step, voice rising.
“You’re a coward. You refused Heaven, you built Hell, and now you run from the one thing that asks you to take responsibility.”
Lucifer’s smile was gone. Completely.
He stood slowly. Not explosive. Not dramatic. Just steady—like a storm shifting into place.
He walked around the table, boots silent on the floor that wasn’t there, until he stood in front of her. They were nearly the same height. His gaze met hers level.
Then, his voice dropped low.
“You always hated me because I never bowed.”
Ariel didn’t move.
Lucifer tilted his head.
“But you… you bowed so hard you shattered, and now you wear your righteousness like armor to cover the cracks.”
Ariel’s hand twitched, her knuckles glowing faint.
“I don’t need the throne,” Lucifer went on, quieter now. “But don’t mistake disinterest for weakness. I could take it. You know I could. And that’s what burns you.”
She raised her hand—but he caught it mid-air.
The sound that followed wasn’t thunder. It was silence—sharp and immediate, as if the world held its breath.
Lucifer leaned in close, his voice brushing just above a whisper.
“You wanted to strike me long before the fall. Because every time I spoke, it reminded you that truth doesn’t need permission. And you? You were always begging for it.”
Ariel’s eyes flared—but not with tears. With fury.
Lucifer let go and stepped back, hands raised.
“Go ahead,” he said. “Swing. Let’s dance in front of Father like old times.”
Ariel was trembling, fists clenched, but she didn’t strike.
Michael rose from his seat.
“That’s enough,” he said firmly.
Lucifer didn’t turn to him. “Careful, brother. I just sat this one out. Doesn’t mean I’m in a generous mood.”
Amiel snorted from the side. “So much drama.”
Bariel raised his cup. “Better than a sermon.”
Asmodeus laughed softly, clearly entertained.
But God remained still. Watching.
Lucifer returned to his seat like nothing happened, brushing nonexistent dust from his sleeve. “Don’t worry, old man,” he muttered. “I won’t take your chair. But I’ll sure enjoy watching who bleeds for it.”
Ariel sat slowly, her glare never leaving him.
And the throne—still empty—loomed between them all, casting no shadow, but heavy enough that none could ignore it.
No one spoke again for a long time.
God finally moved.
Not a shift in posture. Not a flare of power.
Just His voice.
“Enough.”
The word dropped through the silence like a stone in deep water—rippling through the space, stilling every breath in the room.
Lucifer leaned back again, but his smirk didn’t return. Michael stood frozen, hand still resting on the hilt of his sword. Ariel lowered her hand, her wings folding slowly, but her glare didn’t soften.
God’s eyes moved across them all. Every one of His children felt it. Not judgment. Just… attention. Weightless and heavy all at once.
“Sit,” He said, calm. Final.
Everyone obeyed.
Even Lucifer.
God let a pause hang before He spoke again.
“I’ve watched you all. Not just today. Not just during the war. Always.”
His eyes swept across the table—pausing for a breath longer on Gabriel’s flame.
“You are all my children. But only a few have carried enough of My essence to be considered for what comes next.”
The table didn’t crack, but the air shifted. Murmurs stirred. A few shoulders straightened. Some faces tensed.
God raised a hand. Silence.
“There are five,” He said. “Five of you who hold what is needed—not just in power, but in balance. Each of you reflects something I once was, or something I may need to become.”
He said their names, one at a time.
“Lucifer.”
Lucifer didn’t react at first. Just tapped his fingers once on the table. “You sure about that?”
“You are fire,” God said simply. “And fire does not ask for permission to change the world.”
A pause.
“Michael.”
Michael met His gaze without flinching.
“You are law. Structure. Unshakable even when bent. The weight of order when everything falls apart.”
“Gabriel.”
The flame at the empty seat flickered brighter. A single pulse, like a heartbeat.
“You are the breath between conflict and peace. The bridge. The balance.”
“Exousia.”
The cultivator looked up, his presence calm but focused. He didn’t speak.
“You carry change. Not rebellion, not tradition. The still moment between both. That is rare.”
Then God turned toward her.
“Ariel.”
Her hands folded in her lap, but her posture stayed sharp. Her voice didn’t waver.
“And what am I, Father?”
He didn’t hesitate.
“You are justice. Not law. Not vengeance. Justice. The only one who has never bent to another’s idea of right.”
Ariel said nothing.
Lucifer raised an eyebrow. “So that’s it? The Final Five?”
“You will be tested,” God said. “Not through war. Not through blades. But through truth. Each of you will be given trials that reflect what you lack. Not what you already are.”
Lucifer’s smirk returned faintly. “So we’re back to trials now. Just like the old days.”
“You always needed them,” God replied.
Lucifer huffed a quiet laugh and looked away.
Michael leaned forward slightly. “And the rest?”
“They will watch. Witness. Guide. Intervene if needed. But this choice cannot be made by angels or demons or cultivators who no longer remember what Heaven used to feel like.”
Asmodeus scoffed under his breath. Amiel’s eyes darkened. Bariel drained his cup.
Exousia stayed still.
Uriel was the first to speak among the watchers. “And what happens if none of them are worthy?”
God looked at her.
“Then I do not retire.”