The Princess of Lucifer

The sound of chains breaking echoed through the room, followed by an eerie silence. In the Underworld, far away from the scene, dark clouds began to gather in the normally serene purple skies. It was a sight the oldest devils hadn’t seen in centuries. If one looked closely, they might recognize those clouds as a haunting remnant of the era when Lucifer himself ruled.

Then, it hit them—every single devil, regardless of age, power, or status, felt the same instinctual urge. Their bloodline commanded them to kneel, to bow in submission toward one direction: the true throne of the Underworld, where Lucifer had once sat and ruled over biblical Hell.

Whispers and confusion spread across the Underworld, but one thing was clear—*the king had returned*. Not just any king, but the *true* king of biblical Hell had come back.

While the devils were overcome by this primal force, Vali Lucifer felt something more personal, something far deeper. It was that same familiar feeling he got when facing his father and that despicable grandfather of his. *Blood ties*. They ran thicker than water, and even now, Vali could feel it coursing through him.

Roxanne, the source of all this upheaval, stood with beads of sweat forming on her brow.

‘Uh, Ciel? Is it just me, or is unlocking my bloodline having a bit of an... exaggerated effect?’ she asked internally.

[Sigh. Master, when was the last time you fully unlocked your bloodline’s capacity?] Ciel responded with an air of exasperation.

‘Hmm… actually, I don’t think I ever unlocked it fully, did I?’

[Correct, Master. After you escaped that lab, you sealed your bloodline entirely, and you’ve only ever unsealed it to a maximum of 15%.]

Roxanne sighed, feeling a pang of regret. *This is going to be troublesome to clean up later*, she thought. But it was too late to turn back now.

Her transformation was almost complete. Her usually black hair turned silver, and her purple eyes reverted to their original, menacing red. Her wings unfurled behind her, no longer the subtle form they usually took but true devil wings—sharp, dark, and unmistakable in their majesty. Her entire aura shifted, from the deadly calm she typically exuded to something much more dangerous, much more… demonic.

Luciana, watching from the side, could hardly contain her awe. *Hah! I finally get to see the true devil side of my mistress. As expected, she’s far too similar to him. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he had returned from the grave.*

Roxanne’s voice cut through the tension, melodic yet dripping with the authority of her bloodline. "Listen well, Vali Lucifer. I am the daughter of the original Devil King Lucifer and the Angel of Death, Azrael. My name is *Roxanne Lucifer*."

Vali, who had remained silent in the wake of her transformation, locked eyes with her. He felt it now more than ever—this woman was a force unlike any other.

"And," Roxanne continued with a knowing grin, "I am also your grandfather's greatest nemesis."

Vali’s lips curled into a grin—a grin of someone who had just found the perfect ally for his long-desired vengeance. There was no mistaking it. Roxanne Lucifer was exactly the kind of backer he needed to take down Rizevim.

Roxanne observed his expression and chuckled inwardly. *Looks like Rizevim’s going to have it rough in the future,* she mused. *When a dragon wants something, they’ll go to extreme lengths to get it.*

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“Mom, I just have to ask—how in the world did *Azazel* lead the fallen angels into war and survive *till now*?” Roxanne asked, clearly bewildered as she stared at the unassuming house Azazel used to hide from his duties.

A soft chuckle echoed from the necklace she wore. “Sweetie, it’s not very nice to judge people by their outward appearance,” came Azrael’s gentle voice.

Roxanne groaned. “I know he’s a great politician and all, but I personally think he’s a *terrible* leader,” she complained, glancing skeptically at the house.

Azrael’s voice remained calm, though there was an amused lilt to it. “So, why are you here then? I thought you’d be heading home after handing Kokabiel and that rogue priest to Vali.”

Roxanne’s eyes narrowed. “Well, Mom, when I captured Kokabiel, he didn’t resist at all. That’s not like him—his pride alone would’ve driven him to fight. But the second he saw me, or rather my resemblance to *you*, he surrendered immediately. I want to know why. It feels off, like there’s something I don’t know about your supposed attack.”

There was a beat of silence, Azrael's voice fading momentarily. Roxanne didn’t push for more details. If there was something important to know, her mother would tell her. And while she despised the idea of secrets in her family, she wasn’t about to start a fight over them. Instead, she turned her focus back to Azazel.

After receiving no answer at the door despite multiple rings, she frowned. Extending her senses, she found him inside, lounging on a couch, wearing a headset, and... playing video games. A vein popped in her forehead as she watched one of the *faction leaders*—a man responsible for keeping some semblance of order—doing *this* after everything that had just transpired.

For a moment, she seriously considered strangling him. But, unfortunately, Azazel had too much political support, and there were plenty who already wanted him gone. Not to mention, despite his laziness, the man was strong enough to keep the faction in line when it truly mattered.

Sighing, she decided to handle things her own way. With a quick motion, she opened a portal directly into the other side of the door and stepped through.

Azazel’s room was surprisingly clean, with shelves full of action figures and an impressive collection of video game consoles. Hearing her, Azazel snapped out of his game and spun around, immediately slipping into a defensive stance. His hand moved subtly as he tried to activate the room’s hidden traps—until his eyes landed on her, freezing him in place.

“*Azrael*?” he mumbled in shock, his face pale.

Roxanne frowned. *Why is he saying my mother’s name?* She knew she bore little resemblance to her mother, apart from her eyes and wings, so his reaction made no sense.

“Why did you say that?” she asked with narrowed eyes, crossing her arms.

Azazel blinked, snapping out of his trance. Slowly, he deactivated all the traps and—much to Roxanne’s surprise—fell to one knee. “I, Azazel, Governor of the Fallen Angels, greet Her Majesty, Azrael.”

*Sigh.*

“You’re as dramatic as ever, Azazel,” Azrael’s voice responded from the necklace, her form slowly manifesting in a half-transparent glow.

Azazel rose to his feet, his expression shifting from shock to amusement. “Haha, unlike Your Majesty, we fallen hardly ever change,” he laughed nervously.

Roxanne stood there, half-deadpan, half-exasperated. She couldn’t help but think, *Amy, just how much more have you changed in this world?*

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