Lucien stood at the edge of the blood-soaked courtyard, his heart beating steadily, as though unaffected by the carnage around him. The Church had underestimated him, as they had underestimated his mother—thinking she was one of the devil's kin, a demon in disguise. They were wrong, but by the time they realized it, it would be far too late.
His fingers brushed against the ancient pendant around his neck, a relic his mother had left him. The cold metal was a reminder of her death, her life snuffed out by their blind faith and cruelty.
He had always known that his mother's bloodline was more than just human. Her origins were shrouded in secrecy, but that didn't matter now. What mattered was that the Church had taken her from him, and now it was time for them to pay.
A rustle behind him broke his focus, but he didn't turn. He didn't need to. The demons he had summoned earlier were already at his side, silently observing him. The air shifted with the presence of a powerful entity—a leader, perhaps. The demons might have thought they were controlling him, using him for their own ends, but Lucien knew the truth. He was the one in control here. They didn't realize it yet, but they would.
"Lord Lucien," a deep voice rumbled from behind him. He turned, only slightly, to find a tall demon with silver-blue horns and eyes that glowed like embers in the night. He was draped in black armor, a presence that demanded attention.
"You summoned us," the demon continued, his voice tinged with an odd mixture of curiosity and caution. "But you have not shown us your true power. Are we to follow you into battle against the Church?"
Lucien's lips curled into a faint smile. "You misunderstand, my friend," he said, his tone smooth, almost soothing. "You are not following me. I am following you… for now. You have a purpose to fulfill, but so do I."
The demon's eyes narrowed. "And what is your purpose, Lucien? You cannot possibly think you are stronger than us."
Lucien chuckled darkly, a quiet sound that seemed to vibrate in the cold air. "Strength," he mused, "isn't always about power. It's about influence. It's about knowing what your enemy values and using it against them."
The demon blinked, clearly confused by his words. But Lucien wasn't interested in explaining himself. Not yet. He turned his gaze back to the burning church in the distance, the very symbol of his vengeance.
"The Church will fall," Lucien said, his voice cold, resolute. "But they won't know what hit them. They'll be so distracted by their own sense of righteousness that they won't see the strings I pull from the shadows."
A flicker of understanding passed through the demon's eyes, but he said nothing more. Instead, he gestured to the other demons, who had been silently watching. They were growing more eager by the second, but Lucien's plan was far from complete.
He had come this far by playing the fool—allowing them to believe that he was weak, that he was nothing more than a pawn. But in truth, he was far more dangerous than they could ever imagine. Every move he made was calculated, every word carefully chosen. He would let them believe they controlled him, all the while manipulating them to serve his needs.
His enemies would learn this soon enough. And when they did, it would be too late.
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End of Chapter 2