"The Children Of Satan"

The flickering holograms faded. The room stilled once again.

Mackiah remained rooted to the ground, the tattered parchment trembling in his hands. His eyes scanned the remaining corner of the page—an emblem was etched there. Dark ink, sharp strokes. Not printed. Hand-drawn.

A single "L" . But this wasn't just a letter.

It was shaped like a sword, its blade coiled by a serpent, fangs bare and tail winding into symbols Mackiah didn't recognize—ancient, demonic. Behind it, faint charcoal illustrations of wings, fangs, and fire stretched like a shadow.

"The Seal…" he whispered.

Alric turned. "What?"

Mackiah stepped closer to the nearest glowing panel, holding the page to the light. The shadows danced across the image—but the truth had already sunk in.

"This seal we saw," Mackiah breathed, "it's not from any clan, any citadel… or even from the Bastions. It's Lucifer's."

A long silence.

Eron looked pale. "Lucifer? You mean—"

"The real one," Mackiah said, voice lower now. "The one this entire world forgot. The one who built the Seal… to command the Outerworld and Virellan from the shadows. Not from a throne. Not from war. But from fear."

He touched the "L." It radiated power—even on fragile parchment.

"The Seal of Lucifer," the paper read, "was not just a symbol—it was an oath, an order. Any who bore it were feared. Any who forged it… ruled."

Just then, Eron stepped forward, hands shaking.

He handed Mackiah a cold, metal-pressed file, heavier than it looked. It gleamed faint blue under the dome lights.

Virellan Port-

Smoke drifted from the battered alleys as Joker's trucks sat idle, still sealed with the crooked smile insignia.

Joker's men stood at attention, rifles trembling. All eyes were locked on the tall, cloaked figure now standing before them.

"Who the hell is that?" one of the younger guards whispered. "I—I don't know. But boss said don't shoot."

Black coat. Masked face. A terrifying calm.

The commander hesitated. "Everyone… stand down. Don't fire!"

One of the soldiers whispered, "Why? It's one guy—"

"DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHO HE IS?!" the commander barked.

Then — silence.

The commander dropped to one knee. "Forgive me… My Lord."

Gasps tore through the soldiers.

The cloaked figure raised his hand.

"Open the trucks," he ordered.

The commander gave the nod, and his men obeyed — though their hands shook. The locks clicked and hissed.

Just as the final seal broke—

The figure reached for his mask, unstrapped it… and revealed his face.

Zayden Drevarin.

His ice blue eyes burned like eclipsed suns.

A thudding step followed from behind. Another figure arrived, carrying a massive rifle on his shoulder, a lollipop in his mouth.

Darian Drestmore.

"Well, well," Darian drawled. "Didn't think our fan club would be so… gun-heavy. Also—Joker really needs better graphic designers. That smile logo? Tacky."

Zayden didn't smile.

Instead, he reached toward the side of the truck and ripped off Joker's insignia. The metal bent and cracked. He tossed it aside.

Then, using a stamp forged from obsidian and bloodsteel, he slammed a new symbol onto the truck's panel. The crooked smile insignia burned away. Replaced by a symbol the world could never imagine would return.

The Seal of Lucifer.

Darian cracked his neck. "Tell Joker... if he wants his teeth back, he can come dig them out of the dirt."

The Citadel soldiers in black took formation behind them — each one bearing the Seal.

The Citadels… were never protectors.

They were guardians of a deeper throne.

Lucifer's throne.

Flames surged outward like a shockwave. The other Citadel soldiers, hidden nearby in black, stepped forward. Each bore the Seal — now glowing from their uniforms.

Gasps and screams rippled through the watching crowd.

"No…" someone whispered. "That can't be. The Seal… it died when Lucifer did."

But the seal now burned anew.

Lucifer hadn't died.

He had returned.

Sylvenia-The Dome

The lights inside the Dome flickered low, humming faintly as the gravity of what Mackiah read seemed to warp the air itself. Each word clawed at his mind.

File B-23: "BLACKTHORN BASTIONS — CODE CLASSIFICATION: D4RTH"

Mackiah read aloud, his voice rigid, breath caught.

"Formed beyond the laws of the Citadels…They answered to no master but one.

They were not soldiers.

They were shadows.

Not cadets

.Not Heroes.

But the children of Satan

The children of Lucifer."

Alric's fingers clenched.

The file continued, almost like it was alive, whispering through ink:

"Seven cadets were chosen… Seven ascended beyond mortal law.

Their names became forbidden even to the Citadels.

They were known only by title."

The page shimmered. Names flared in bloodred, the ranking of the Blackthorn Bastions was quiet different from any other. Nothing like that of the Citadels nor the royal knights.

They were called, "The Darths."

Ranking: Darth

Darth Wreckon – The Sword of the End: Captain of The Bastions

Darth Havok – The Unseen Storm

Darth Inexor – The Iron Fate

Darth Daunte – The Cold Fire

Darth Skrye – The Silent Raven

Darth Krull – The Wall of Ruin

Darth Zenith – The Final Ascent

"The Blackthorn Bastions. Reapers cloaked in silence."

But five names were burned out, scratched into oblivion.

Only two remained.

Darth Wreckon-Zayden Drevarin

Darth Havok-Darian Drestmore

Mackiah's eyes went wide. "No… No, no, this can't be right—this has to be a mistake," he whispered.

"They weren't just hiding. They're the highest-ranked elite the world was never meant to know about."  His breath hitched. He stumbled back a step as if struck across the face.

Alric stood frozen, his lips parted, pupils dilated in disbelief.

"Zayden?" Mackiah choked out, turning to Alric. "Ivan? Our Ivan? Darian? They're—"

Alric's voice cracked, a dry rasp. "Darth Wreckon… and Havok… the Children of Satan. The chosen heirs of Lucifer himself."

The silence that followed was like a scream held inside their chests.

"All this time… I thought I was falling for someone warm… someone good, someone who made me feel at ease. He wore silly aprons. He made me coffee with cat ears, Mackiah," Alric said, his voice trembling. 

Mackiah's fists clenched so hard his knuckles whitened.

"I thought I knew him… but all this time… I was sleeping next to the Devil's own blood."

The display crackled again, revealing a faint image — two silhouettes in dark uniforms, standing above a field of collapsed war machines. Zayden and Darian, eyes glowing, their black coats billowing behind them like wings of the abyss. And above them… the Seal of Lucifer, burning in the sky.

"No wonder no one could trace their origins," Alric muttered. "The records weren't missing. They were erased."

Mackiah turned the last page-

"Only Lucifer's true successors may wield the Seal."

"And the Bastions shall obey no kingdom… only the Throne of Shadows."

His voice was shaking now, but he read it aloud:

"Zayden Drevarin. Born from fire. Baptized in blood.

Crafted to lead the armies of the new world."

"Darian Drestmore. Shadow incarnate. The fury behind the flame."

"Together, they were the first to awaken the Seal of Lucifer."

Alric collapsed into the nearest chair, burying his face in his hands.

"How did I not see it? How did I not feel it? All this time, I thought… he was just a barista. A beautiful, broken boy with a past he didn't want to talk about."

Mackiah stood in the center of the chamber, his whole body shaking.

"They lied to us. They played us."

But then his voice faltered.

"No. No, that's not true… it felt real. Everything about him — the way he held me, the way he looked at me when I laughed… that wasn't fake. It couldn't be."

Alric looked up, eyes wet and wide.

"Then what are we supposed to do now, Mackiah? Fall in love with the Devil and hope he's in the mood to spare us?"

Mackiah's heart felt like it was being split down the middle. Rage, confusion, and a bone-deep sorrow all collided in his chest. His hands dropped the file, letting it flutter to the floor like ashes.

"We need answers," he said coldly. "We need the truth. Not from books. Not from files. From them." 

Virellan-

The golden horizon gleamed as the final crate was lifted. The crowd stirred with murmurs of disbelief and reverence.

The people of Virellan stared in stunned silence. A young boy dropped his ragged toy. A mother clutched her child tighter. Soldiers lowered their weapons.

Then Zayden stepped forward — cloak swaying, unmasked, his eyes burning not with wrath… but purpose.

"This belongs to you," he declared, his voice like steel wrapped in velvet."

All of it. Return every last crate to its rightful hands."

Darian chuckled behind him, rifle slung across his shoulder. "If I have to carry another sack of wheat like Santa in a tactical vest, I'm deducting it from Joker's bones."

"Move," Zayden ordered his men.

The masked operatives of the Citadel obeyed swiftly — crates of grain, medicine, blankets, and long-lost heirlooms were returned. Shaking hands received them in disbelief.

A woman sobbed, holding an old photo frame.

A little boy clutched a small pouch of candy and whispered, "Thank you, mister…"

"From now on," Zayden announced, as he gently patted the boy's head, "nothing comes in… and nothing goes out… of Virellan — unless it bears this Seal."

He raised his hand — the symbol glowing brightly behind him on a projection screen lit into the sky.

"This is not a declaration of war. This is a resurrection.

Lucifer has returned — not to destroy this world… but to save it from those who already have."

A stunned hush fell.

And then, slowly, a cheer rose.

Children clapped. Elderly men bowed. Even the skeptics lowered their heads in awe as the truth washed over them like a tidal wave.

"The Children of Satan… have returned."

The words cut the air like a blade.

Zayden paused — his hands mid-motion. His head lifted, but he didn't turn.

All eyes turned to the old man — thin, hunched, wrapped in robes that bore strange embroidered glyphs. His pale eyes shimmered with both wisdom and madness, like he had lived through lifetimes of silence just for this moment.

The people stepped aside for him. Even Darian stilled.

"There was once a time," the old man began, stepping forward, "when this land bled beneath false gods. When people prayed with broken voices, never answered, never saved."

He looked toward the glowing sigil of Lucifer, branded into the container wall — that sinuous "L" like a sword twisted in serpents and flame.

"But he came. Not to demand worship… but to burn the thrones of those who did.

He became Satan not to destroy… but to protect those the world called unworthy."

The crowd quieted further.

"And now—his children walk among us."

Zayden still didn't turn. His shoulders were tense, eyes cast down.

"He never asked for temples.

He never wanted statues

.All he wanted… was for us to live free—even if it meant he became the devil they all feared."

The man turned toward the children clinging to their parents.

"Do not pray to the gods who turned their backs.

Pray to Lucifer.

For when the stars go silent…He is the only one who will rise again to save you."

A strange peace overtook the crowd.

Zayden finally moved — not toward the man, but away.

Silently, he lowered the final crate. He didn't say a word. But as he turned to walk down the alley behind the port warehouse, his shadow seemed longer… heavier.

Darian noticed.

"Zay," he called gently, voice half-laughter, half-worry. "You okay?"

Zayden stopped just at the mouth of the alley.

"Do you think…"His voice was barely audible.

"That we're becoming what they believe?Icons. Monsters. Gods."

Darian walked up beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"No." He smiled. "We already are. The only question is: which one will we choose to be when the war begins?"

Zayden didn't respond.

But he looked up at the branded seal — burning red like a rising omen.

The news of Lucifer's return and his army broke Virellan.

The hologram of the Seal burned across the main screen in the council room. Silence held the air like poison.

Aurek, slammed his fist on the table.

"So it's true… The Citadels were never for us.

They weren't built by the clans.

They were forged by him."

Nerik leaned forward, voice grim.

"And now he's taken control again — not just of one port…But the people."

Caelon stared at the insignia with hollow eyes.

"We were lied to for years…"

And Aurek, with bitter awe, muttered:

"Kaelus didn't act… because he knew.

He knew this would happen.

He knew his shadow would return."

Silence again.

Only the pulse of the seal on the screen reminded them they were still living.

Joker's Private Estate-

Glass shattered as Joker hurled a monitor across the room.

"ZAYDEN. DARIAN. Those damn lying rats!"

"They DARED to mark my trucks with that cursed symbol?! They turned against me?"

One of his men tried to speak, but Joker grabbed him by the throat.

"Lucifer's return was a myth — a bedtime story! A warning!"

He growled, slamming the man against the wall. "Now the people are dancing in the streets like sheep at the edge of slaughter."

His voice dropped low. Dangerous.

"They'll learn.

They'll all learn.

If Lucifer has returned…I will become the beast even he fears."

His eyes narrowed, glowing crimson.

"This isn't the end.

This is my war now."