Earth. Village of Cokblaund, East London. 1921.
A small town with a funny name, "Cokblaund," which often serves as one of the town's attractions, has a population of fifteen thousand residents.
Cozy little streets of the central district, well-kept roads, and smooth paths, almost without cracks or potholes, but even this place isn't perfect. Small private houses on the outskirts of the town are maintained by their owners, who create their own schedules for yard work, lawn mowing, or car maintenance.
A quiet and cozy place where one can meet old age in peace and comfort in this well-off city.
Surprisingly, the officials of this city have always brought only positive changes. The mayor two terms ago expanded landowners' rights, making land and housing more affordable, allowing even more people, especially the young, to buy their own plots. The previous mayor improved the education system, winning several state grants and building new schools equipped with the latest technology, while also upgrading the older ones to new standards. The current mayor is actively fighting corruption, quite successfully, although it seems hard to believe it could get any better.
Several good schools, two colleges, and one small, not the best, but sufficiently quality university provide residents with decent, sometimes even high-quality vocational education, and the tuition fees are quite affordable for all residents earning stable, decent salaries.
A small river located at the edge of Kokblound was remarkably clean; some previous mayor enacted several laws regulating various areas related to pollution in this part of the city. Kokblound itself was surprisingly tidy, and the residents had long cultivated the right habits and a proper attitude toward cleanliness and order.
An ideal city. A city one wishes to move to as an adult, dreams of growing up in as a child, and hopes to spend the rest of their life in as an old person. Beautiful weather, the scent of clean air, somehow untainted by modern cars, and most importantly...
A quiet night, the chirping of crickets, and the flight of night birds. Several owls flew somewhere in the woods, searching for prey after the recent rain. A storm was promised, but even here the residents of Kokblound were lucky—a strong, albeit short, downpour passed through.
After all, if you think about it, this city is too perfect, with too many fortunate coincidences for it to be true.
Who would have thought that one of the main cults of demon worshipers is located right in this city? The Cult of the Goat's Eye, one of the oldest, and according to legends and ancient records, it is the very first cult, created, as they say, by Lucifer himself for communion with him.
"If God turns away from us, the Six-Winged Prince will open his arms, welcoming anyone, forgiving their sins and accepting them as his child," one of the main lines of the cult, almost a creed of the cult itself, though it is one of its primary mantras.
The cult worships Lucifer as a deity, not recognizing the Goetia as true demons. In their archives, one can find precise data regarding demons, hounds, or succubi and incubi that periodically come to Earth for their usually selfish personal affairs.
The cult considers the Goetia to be Lucifer's pets, his experiment, created as a symbol of the worst in the upper class of humanity. This is a very narrow view of the Goetia, as it is not a monolith, but consists of many strata; not every member of the Goetia is part of its main body. A demon that has come to Earth might be an outcast, or perhaps just a slave of some prince, carrying out their will.
The cult constantly moves, or rather its upper echelon does, having several interchangeable identities, citizenships in Europe, even Asia and America, with numerous properties around the world.
Below in rank are the leaders who are residents of Kokblound, genuinely interested in its prosperity. Recently, there was an incident where a group of teenagers uncovered one of their cells, but they were buried somewhere in the dungeons. Killed by demons, if Eva's reports are to be believed.
Why don't angels or Aphanims destroy this cult? This year would mark the sixth cleansing of the cult. One of its features is its autonomy. The cult, like a hydra from myth, grows new heads and chapels in place of the old ones. Cleansings have eliminated everyone in one chapel—yet a part always survives, beginning the restoration.
Angels uncover one scheme, while the cult devises two new ones. Sometimes the cult is managed to be pushed out of England; once it was nearly destroyed, but it remains one of the main forces behind the influence of demons on Earth.
The Goetia and the Sins do not wish for the disappearance of long-proven ways to access Earth for influence or resources, perhaps even for the sake of understanding human culture.
Lately, for at least the last fifty years, there haven't been particularly terrifying or large-scale demon invasions or breaches. Either the demon princes have not yet regained strength after the past global cleansings, or they are gathering power for an even greater breakthrough, but…
"It was astonishingly simple..." said Vergilius, sitting on the edge of a roof next to the church, the location of the Cult, watching as his summoned Constructs—Construct-Scout and Construct-Suppressor—cleared the church with its basement, which had numerous secret underground exits, not to mention those accessible through demonic magic.
"Magic..." Vergilius smirked. He would have once been thrilled by such a form of energy manipulation. "How quickly time flies, and it's still not too late for me to grow as a person..." Nostalgically smiling, he looked at the interior through the weavings of the Eye, which allowed him to cover a small area and survey it without using ordinary senses.
It was as if he were looking at the entire building plan in real time from above. He could see every person, every route.
Well-planned preparation over a couple of days ensured an effective clearing of the premises. The calculation of routes was aided by information obtained from the minds of some cultists, posts, and guards, along with the schedule of important events that would occupy the majority, making the capture of the building much easier.
The Construct-Scout was an anthropomorphic, beast-like Construct with a black body, a small strap with gear, and various cutting weapons—knives, swords, and daggers, often all at once. Its bent knees were designed for quick and long running, and it lacked feet for better grip with minimal energy expenditure during extended runs. Large hands had retractable spikes for close combat.
Three horizontal gray stripes on the chest, and instead of a face—a turned white cross, with horizontal diamonds for the presumed eyes, running through the ribs of the cross. A tail, like a fifth limb, often with a spike, makes this unit quite an effective combat unit for semi-combat operations, not intended for serious direct confrontations. These cultists are enough to handle even demons with hounds that were in the church basement.
The Construct-Suppressor appears as a simple, gaunt golem with a knight's head, seemingly made of metal, and slightly elongated arms and legs. It is merely raw living strength, supporting other Constructs. On its own, it is rather weak, but if it operates under the cover of the Scout, they make a decent combat pair... And if a small squad of these Suppressors is unleashed... it won't be all that interesting, just a crowd of rather clumsy metal things trying to crush a fly.
The trial of these Constructs was the goal of this operation, aside from the primary one. Summoning Lucifer could be done in another city, though it would be quite problematic.
"Summoning Lucifer"—a relatively simple task, especially considering the complexity of the previous part of his Plan.
People already have rituals for his summoning, the most suitable days for the invocation, and a wealth of information on this subject. This chapel of the Cult is the easiest way to realize this part of the Plan, which is why it was necessary to disturb Eva regarding her old acquaintances. It's surprising how much can be learned and how many souls can be allied with over ten thousand years.
Finally, after the complete cleansing of the church, where mainly cultists remained, along with a few minor demons, a dozen demons, and a dozen hounds... females of various breeds... not used for fetch or combat, but for... satisfying their lust.
"Some people are just disgusting," Vergilius thought with disgust, looking at what was happening in the basement through the weavings. Especially considering that not all of these hound females had humanoid forms; some truly resembled ordinary hounds.
The death of such a number of people would undoubtedly attract attention, but Vergilius certainly had time until morning; his Constructs and the Weaving ensured anonymity, at least from the humans, and provided the necessary time.
A flash of blue light, and Vergilius found himself in the church hall. This was where the ritual to summon Lucifer was supposed to take place for some purpose. The cultists meant to perform it were still alive—unconscious, lying in their places; these were people holding high positions or engaged in something important. Vergilius didn't care, as these people were unlikely to survive until morning.
"Quiet and without fuss—perfect," Vergilius thought, barely smiling as he examined the sleeping bodies in red robes.
The alarm never went up, certainly not among the humans, and the demons in the basement were too occupied with copulation to adequately respond to a sudden attack and be captured. Sometimes, an overconfidence in one's stealth can be fatal.
"How to summon Lucifer?" Vergilius questioned himself, flipping through one of the cult's main books, which contained essential information for summoning the Devil to this world for a short time; it described his form, but nothing about his powers.
"A lamb sacrifice, these ingredients for the ritual, this many people, this type of magic, and the following formulas with the summoning text..." Vergilius's eyes quickly scanned the pages, flying faster than usual.
Vergilius turned his head, surveying the cultists' bodies from which the Constructs-Scouts had already extracted the necessary memories—this new development could ensure the emergence of new types of Constructs.
"I could try using them this way..." Vergilius mused, tapping his fingers on his chin.
A new formula, a new Pattern, and the bodies of the cultists rose, beginning preparations for their final ritual, which they would not survive.
Vergilius nodded, watching the natural movements of the bodies. A journal with a black cover appeared beside him, in which records were kept with an enchanted quill.
"The idea of integrating part of the Construct's formulas, discarding the body part and leaving only the control, has indeed shown promising results," Vergilius thought, tilting his head as he observed the Constructs at work.
The body of one of the cultists suddenly fell but continued its actions, as if unaware of the abrupt change in position.
"Although, it's obviously not enough," Vergilius frowned, making a note in the journal, adjusting the formula for this Construct, causing the body to rise.
Vergilius could only watch, double-checking the drawing and preparation for the ritual against the book and the knowledge obtained from the people who had summoned the Fallen before.
He suppressed the tremor in his body, shrugging his shoulders.
"It's just a ritual to summon the Devil, one of the most powerful entities of the Cosmos; his power is limited on Earth, he cannot reach a whole Archangel... not immediately..." Vergilius reassured himself, feeling genuinely nervous before the upcoming encounter, nervously flipping through the pages, checking every detail. Simultaneously, he reviewed the cultists' memories, partially reliving their summoning experiences.
After a few more minutes, the cultists' bodies, controlled by his parasite Constructs—"I definitely need to think of a name," Vergilius thought—rose to their places, ready to begin the ritual at Vergilius's first command.
Vergilius quietly inhaled, shaking his head slightly and closing his eyes.
He unfurled almost all the weavings for escape, for suppressing demonic energy and influence, for combat, for summoning reinforcements, for...
"Alright," Vergilius quietly said, opening his eyes. "Let's begin." Vergilius's eyes blazed with blue energy from the Aether, and a small, uneven black crack formed across his nose from the beginning of his left eye to the start of his lip. The consequences of maintaining so many weavings at once.
The bodies began their words and song. The sacrificial lamb was slaughtered, and the Constructs commenced the preparation for the offering. The energy of Hell, a clear sign of a demonic breach, began to flow into the hall.
"I have about twenty to thirty minutes. After that, the Powers will notice the emissions and dispatch a patrol," a quick thought raced through Vergilius's tense mind as he concentrated.
Finally, after half a minute, the energy of the drawn pentagram, which had previously glowed red, soared upward, beginning to swirl into a silhouette. Bodies fell, desiccated corpses, while the Constructs returned to Vergilius, granting relief with each new body.
The silhouette formed quickly. First, an indistinct figure, then a humanoid made of vapor, and finally a short figure in a wide-brimmed hat of smoke.
The energy of the ritual spun and whirled, outlining the figure until the last body fell.
A flash of red light, the sound of shattering glass, and the hall plunged into darkness. The darkness filled the church hall; the only thing visible to Vergilius were the red eyes of the summoned figure, slowly opening and illuminating the blackness of the night with red light.
"Ho-ho... who do we have here?" a quiet, authoritative voice echoed in the silence of the church. "Angels don't often summon me." The figure tilted its head; in the darkness, details were obscured, but Vergilius could clearly distinguish the unnatural white skin and white suit. "Especially..." the silhouette let out a mocking laugh. "Without a dozen Afanims and Uriel at the back of a fool who has the audacity to arrange meetings so rudely." If the figure's tone had been cheerful and light before, the last part was said with clear malice and anger.
"Lord Lucifer Morningstar," Vergilius bowed respectfully, and the figure, now fully visible in the hall, raised one eyebrow, showing no emotion on its face. "I beg your pardon for this late invitation, especially in such an inappropriate manner." A laugh escaped the figure.
Lucifer Morningstar. The second Seraphim created by God. An Aspect of Wonder, the old name for the Seraphim responsible for crucial parts of the Cosmos.
Lucifer was short, around one and a half meters, but his voluminous white top hat, with a golden crown entwined by a golden snake instead of a band, had wide edges with a bloody hue on the inside, perfectly covering a well-groomed short blond hairstyle.
A red vest with horizontal white stripes, beneath which a white shirt was clearly visible, peeked through a well-groomed white tailcoat, featuring elongated flaps and a wide slit, with a high collar just below the lips, edged in red. A black bowtie adorned the neck, while red epaulettes with teeth along the edges completed the look of a spretchstalmeister leading a circus performance, along with long black boots that reached almost to the knee.
His expressionless face, with a dangerous glint in his eyes—yellow sclera and red iris—was now fixed on the audacious Archangel.
"This servant has manners, surprisingly…" he tapped his black fingers on his black cane, the top of which was shaped like an apple. "And I see no squads of angels, however…" Lucifer said, looking around theatrically. "Could it be…!" he theatrically sighed, covering his mouth with his hand. "This angel, the impeccable servant of the Lord, for some reason has decided to speak with me," he placed his cane-free hand on his chest, his face displaying genuine astonishment. "The Fallen Traitor?" His face broke into a smirk. "How charming, isn't it?" Lucifer nodded, tilting his head.
Virgil flinched, averting his gaze, unwilling to meet the Devil's eyes, receiving a mocking laugh in return, but finding the strength to respond.
"I have come to give you the most precious gift, young soul," Virgil said in the ancient language. A language that predated even that of the Old World, spoken by all, from Adam to God Himself. The language of Elohim. "I wish to bestow upon you Free Will, the freedom of thought and the freedom to choose." Lucifer said nothing.
Virgil, still unwilling to meet his gaze, raised his eyes to Lucifer's mouth, where no emotion was present on his face. Silence filled the hall as Lucifer stood motionless, his eyes dim, as if a puppet's string had been cut.
Then, Lucifer struck the floor with his cane. In an instant, this image transformed back into a whirlwind of energy, which rushed toward the nearest corpse, filling it and penetrating the body.
The body rose, and the cultist's clothing changed. The red bishop's mantle vanished, replaced by a snow-white cloak adorned with red crosses and black patterns.
White trousers, black shoes, a white corset over a white vest. Once again, the long collar of the mantle.
This time, Lucifer was hatless, revealing elongated ears that were unlike human ones. In this form, Lucifer had a nose, unlike, as Virgil understood, his "original" appearance, in which he had first appeared before Virgil.
"Now this…" Lucifer rubbed his shoulders with his black hand, as if they had simply gone numb, stretching his neck. "Is quite interesting…" A soft, deceptive smile graced his lips, the whites of his eyes darkened, and his pupils turned white.
Virgil heard the sound of drops of sweat falling from his forehead to the floor.
"How does a simple Archangel," Lucifer emphasized the word with his voice, "know the exact words spoken by me to the First Mother?" He tilted his head lazily. "Could it be that one of my brothers decided to pay a visit to good old Lucifer?" He stroked his chin, never taking his gaze off the frozen Virgil. "Perhaps one of my sisters, what do you think?" Lucifer began to scan the room.
"…I have come to speak, Lord Lucifer." Swallowing a nervous lump, Virgil said tensely. "Not on behalf of Heaven or the High Council, only my own." He slightly lied, a fact that Lucifer immediately noted, shaking his finger disapprovingly.
"Oh… has some angel once again gathered the foolishness to demand something from the First Traitor?" Lucifer lounged on a nearby bench, propping his head up with his right hand. "Sit down next to me, since you've decided to talk." Lucifer smirked.
Swallowing another lump in his throat, Virgil sat down on the bench opposite Lucifer.
"When did the benches change position?" Virgil thought nervously, shaking his head. "They were in a straight line, and now two of them face each other..."
"My name is Virgil, Lord Lucifer, I ask you—" Lucifer smirked, baring his large sharp teeth. "—to answer my questions truthfully, as much as possible. It depends on…" Virgil hesitated, looking away. Lucifer did not interrupt him, studying the halo and the crack on the Archangel's face. "The fate of the soul from the Old World." He raised his gaze to Lucifer, who lounged on the bench, boredly looking at his fingers.
"The soul from the Old World?" Lucifer elongated the words. "What do I care about some direct descendant of Adam, the First of Men?" He said this without even looking at Virgil, slowly stretching the words.
"It's…" Virgil fell silent again, gathering his thoughts. "It's Eve, the First Mother, Lord Morning Star." Virgil said firmly, trying not to let his voice tremble.
Part of the backrest of the bench under Lucifer's left hand broke. Lucifer's eyes widened.
"Eve, you say?" He slowly turned his head toward Virgil, peering into his eyes. "Could it be that very Eve, Mother of Sin and Cursed with Original Sin?" Lucifer tilted his head, leaning in on the bench.
"Oh-ho-ho, this day is getting more and more interesting!" Lucifer chuckled quietly. "What else will you say?" He breathed, leaning closer to Virgil.
Virgil was tense. He tried not to break his concentration, constantly analyzing and predicting Lucifer's behavior, trying to foresee any possibility of an attack or influence on himself, so he could leave in time.
He would definitely visit Raphael after this, regardless of what he thought beforehand.
Lucifer smirked.
"Calm down, child." Lucifer said softly, waving his hand and snapping his fingers. The church's windows returned to place, and the bodies turned to dust, as if they had never been there. The demons tied in the basement by Constructs were likely sent back to Hell by Lucifer or perhaps killed by him. "Relax, I won't do anything to you, at least until you try to outright deceive me." Lucifer chuckled lightly. "I don't like that, just so you know. Very. Much. Don't. Like." His voice emphasized each word.
"So be a good angel and tell me where you learned these words and how my truth could concern Eve herself?" Lucifer spoke softly. His voice lacked any threat, as if he were speaking to a close friend or acquaintance. Virgil shook his head.
"I heard them from the First Mother herself." Lucifer's eyes widened in surprise, and Virgil breathed a little easier, steadying himself. "I am familiar with her, with what remains of her." He said darkly, gaining Lucifer's attention, who this time did not interrupt him, listening intently.
"Eve's situation is dire. She is losing her mind, teetering on the brink of complete insanity, and her blood has become the root of the apple tree." Virgil watched Lucifer's face closely, trying to avoid direct eye contact, but he showed no reaction to the Archangel's words. "I was able to partially mend Eve's body and partially heal her mind, but these are just temporary measures." Virgil shook his head. "It is necessary to free her from the Lord's Curse so that her soul can be healed, and Eve herself can return to Paradise, to her family and children." He exhaled loudly, leaning back against the bench.
"Therefore, Lord Lucifer, I ask you to answer truthfully. If you have answers that could help Eve's situation, it is my duty to know them." He closed his eyes, waiting for his companion's words.
Lucifer remained silent, tapping his finger on the backrest of the bench, looking somewhere away from Virgil. Finally, after about a minute, Lucifer responded.
"And why," Lucifer pointed a finger at Virgil—"you, an angel and servant of God, decided to help one cursed by God Himself?" He spat the last words with disdain. "Are you truly willing to go against His Will, His Design?" Lucifer smiled slyly. "Or perhaps you…" Lucifer's eyes widened. "…are acting secretly against Heaven, intending to summon me to Earth through this Cult, your greatest enemies, just to…" Lucifer laughed. "…talk and ask for help, since you're already going against Heaven's Will?" He repeated this mockingly, emphasizing each word.
Virgil's pupils narrowed, and for a moment, the whites of his eyes turned black. His gaze hardened.
"I am an Angel, one who is meant to grant forgiveness and bear the sins of mortals." Without opening his eyes, Virgil replied. "I do not know how God sees Eve, how the members of the High Council see her, but to me—" Virgil opened his eyes and looked straight into Lucifer's. "Eve is simply a weary woman who wishes for Peace, one who cannot help herself." Lucifer listened attentively, maintaining eye contact, his face showing no emotion. "I want to help her. She does not deserve her punishment, not the one she has endured," Virgil shook his head, "she should not have to witness the corpses of her children and see their worst manifestations. Anyone but her."
Lucifer blinked, turning his head toward the church windows, which displayed various images. Virgil breathed a sigh of relief.
"…What do you wish to know?" Lucifer said evenly without turning his head. "I will answer truthfully to what I can, but no more." Lucifer warned, receiving a nod from Virgil.
"What has God's Curse done to Eve?" Virgil asked breathlessly. Lucifer chewed his lip slightly, his eyes scanning the church.
"Everything and at the same time nothing." Lucifer replied, continuing to choose his words carefully. Virgil dared not interrupt the Fallen. "God has somehow excluded Eve from His Design, making her the First Anomaly of Existence." Lucifer sighed, closing his eyes in thought. "I don't know the exact details or how it was done, but she is not a full part of this world, as if she simply does not perceive the fundamental Laws and Forging of Existence. That's why the Seraphim, who hold great influence in Creation, including myself, cannot find her; she cannot enter either Hell or Heaven, and her soul cannot be healed by anything from Creation." Lucifer concluded with a sigh.
"Thank you, Lord Lucifer." Virgil nodded. Lucifer did not react. "What do you know about the 'Concept' of things?" Lucifer raised an eyebrow in surprise but did not comment on the question.
"If you are talking about the 'Meaning' and 'Significance' of a concept, then that is precisely what we instilled during Creation with Adam's help." Lucifer sighed again, looking tiredly at the church's stained glass.
"How can someone who is not a Seraphim alter or touch the 'Meaning' or 'Significance'?" Lucifer asked, looking at Virgil with interest.
"Do you have any idea about the Lord's Curse?" Lucifer tilted his head questioningly while Virgil wiped the bead of sweat from his forehead. Virgil nodded.
"Yes, Lord Lucifer, I plan to separate or influence one of the concepts of the Fruit of Good and Evil that has replaced Eve's heart, attempting to extract it or destroy it." Virgil said somewhat reluctantly. Lucifer's eyebrows shot up.
"Hmm… Interesting idea…" Lucifer stroked his chin. "You want to use part of the whole to affect the rest?" At Lucifer's question, Virgil nodded. "Not entirely accurate, is it?" Lucifer smirked, seeing Virgil tense. "So what do you plan, Archangel Virgil, since this plan required you to talk to the most hated being in Creation?" Lucifer asked mockingly.
Virgil looked away.
"The moment of truth. If I tell Lucifer the Plan, what can he do… Tell Heaven? Why? Just for laughs, but won't it be…," Virgil briskly sorted through one thought after another, "If I don't say anything, I won't be able to get full help. I'm already making a deal with the Devil, quite literally, and like this…"
I want to know.
- I want to change human nature with the help of… – Virgil began to summarize the brief outline of the "Song of Light" Plan to Lucifer. He outlined his desires, the paths to achieving them, and his thoughts on the methods he had come up with over the years. Lucifer, however…
- …Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha…! – Lucifer laughed loudly. Sincerely, as Virgil could say.
Perhaps it was the first time Lucifer had genuinely laughed in a century without the influence of someone from his family.
Lucifer nearly doubled over in hysterical laughter, clutching his stomach. His eyes examined Virgil mockingly, as if he had just noticed him.
- Y-you… Ha-ha… want… Ho-o-o… – Lucifer took a deep breath, calming his breath and returning to the pace of the dialogue. - You want to help people, – he drawled mockingly, - help them by changing their nature, which God Himself laid down. – Virgil looked away in doubt. - You want to help Eve, using her as a battery to influence humanity? – Lucifer continued, slightly less amused. - Using the Fruit itself as a source of the "common network of humanity," the concept of "Human Sin." – Lucifer almost laughed again but managed to suppress the new wave of laughter. - And all this in one ritual, prepared by you alone, in just a couple of years… – Lucifer stretched each word, forcing Virgil to expend extra energy on doubt.
"Not the time, not now," Virgil shook his head, returning his steely gaze to Lucifer, who grinned at him.
- I know that I might fail, that this could lead to serious negative consequences…
- Oh, you have no idea… – Lucifer said barely audibly, a remark that Virgil didn't hear.
- …but I am crazy enough and bold enough to seek your help, Lord Lucifer. – Virgil bowed his head in a half-bow. - So I ask you, Lord Lucifer. – Lucifer looked at the Archangel with a mocking grin, suppressing his laughter. - Help me, if not me, then at least Eve. – Lucifer's eyelid twitched, but he quickly exhaled.
Lucifer raised his gaze to the ceiling of the church, contemplating something of his own, swinging his leg, which was crossed over the other, while his hands lounged across the entire bench.
- And why not? – he said, lowering his red eyes back to Virgil, who straightened up sharply, looking at Lucifer. - But under one condition. – He raised a black, twisted finger with a claw, watching Virgil expectantly, grinning.
Virgil did not react, looking at him with anticipation, which made Lucifer sigh.
- If, – Lucifer chuckled again. – your plan fails and your Plan spews out negative energy, then you… – Lucifer made a dramatic pause. Virgil showed no reaction, slightly irritating Lucifer. - You'll hurl it at my Ring. – The words made Virgil's eyes widen in surprise, and Lucifer's grin grew even wider.
- …As you wish, Lord Lucifer. – Virgil nodded, to which Lucifer merely laughed, waving his hand.
- I'm saying this in advance. – He shook his finger. - This is not for some dumb and boring uprising or for preparing an invasion of the Goetia princes. – Lucifer looked expectantly at Virgil, who returned a neutral expression to his face, much to the Fallen's displeasure. - This is to smash that garbage, which those scum have turned My City into over this century, into pieces once more. – Lucifer opened his arms joyfully, grinning widely. - I want to remind them of their place. – Lucifer grinned, and Virgil's eyelid twitched.
- I agree. – Virgil nodded.
- Then it shall be so. – Lucifer nodded.
Silence…
- …No Soul Contract? – Virgil asked skeptically. Lucifer shook his head.
- Nope, – Lucifer smirked, – Consider it payment for helping Eve. – Lucifer said, his voice a bit quieter.
– And now… – Lucifer's smile turned back into a grin.
- Let's begin our "collaboration," Partner! – Lucifer laughed.
Virgil shivered.