Arc 1: Asmodeus – Sin of Lust (1 of 2)
The rain in Hell didn't fall. It slithered.
Lucen didn't step into Hell. He was pulled in.
A gate had opened behind him, tearing the sky with a sound — not thunder, not fire. It was a breath. A thousand sighs layered into one voice. The broken remains of the cult faded behind him. Scarne had screamed, had held him back. But it was over.
Now, Lucen walked alone beneath a starless sky, deeper into a realm that wasn't just hot… it was hungry.
The path ahead twisted through shadows and bones. Roses lined it like stains. Their petals floated in the air — deep purple, bruised. They never touched the ground. With each step he took, the path adjusted. Folding. Pleasing. Serving.
That's when he felt them.
Eyes.
Not watchers. Not enemies.
Eyes like lovers. Eyes that never blinked.
"Zaqel..."
A voice brushed across the sky, soft and feminine. It echoed with velvet.
"The Fallen Moon. The one who chose light over legacy. You came to me first. Why?"
Lucen stopped. His breath condensed into black mist. Not fear. Awareness.
"I didn't choose you," he said. "I was sent here. To end this. One by one."
She laughed. Not loud. Just… close.
"End me? No. I am not a threat. I'm a desire. You don't end desire. You kneel to it."
The path widened.
A theater unfolded before him — massive and hollow. Velvet curtains floated in air, glowing faintly. The chandeliers above spun slowly, filled with glass spheres. Inside each orb: a face. Smiling. Crying. Moaning.
She sat alone at the center.
Asmodeus.
Black silk wrapped her like living smoke, moving in reverse. Her eyes shimmered like galaxies turned inward. No horns. No claws. Just gravity. She wasn't dressed to seduce.
She was seduction.
Lucen's heart didn't race. It slowed. Controlled. But something under his skin moved. A pressure. A warmth. A flicker.
"Tell me, little sin-drenched savior," she said, still sitting. "Do your monk hands know how to touch a woman's heart? Or only break it with guilt?"
"You speak in riddles," he answered. "But you're just afraid."
"Afraid?" Her smile didn't falter. "Oh, Zaqel. You carry Lust inside you. Always have. I'm not your enemy. I'm your reflection."
She stood.
Time bent.
Lucen blinked — and the theater changed.
The seats were filled now. Rows of women. All different. All the same. His childhood crush. A dream girl he forgot. A stranger from a rainy street. Versions of want. All looking at him.
They clapped.
They smiled.
They whispered his name.
Lucen flinched. The scent of memory filled the air. Sweat. Skin. Regret.
He tried to focus. Tried to call out a Virtue.
Chastity. Temperance. Humility.
They flickered.
Weak.
Asmodeus was pushing deeper.
"You think you can drown me in my thoughts?" he said.
"No, darling," she whispered. "I'm just giving them music."
He didn't fall. Not with his body. With his mind.
Suddenly, he was kneeling.
The crowd around him sang, wept, laughed. Every voice carried weight.
She stood over him. Her hand reached to his chest.
"Let go," she said. "Let yourself want. You've been good for too long. Let Zaqel breathe. Let the world burn with wanting."
Lucen screamed.
Not out loud. Inside.
He wasn't afraid. He was angry. Not at her.
At himself.
His skin burned. Not from desire.
From clarity.
A voice rose inside him. His own.
"I was born for something greater," he said.
Not to her.
To himself.
And the fire came.
White light.
Three Virtues answered.
Diligence.
Chastity.
Forgiveness.
His hands lit like stars. No violence. Just truth.
He hurled them forward. Not as weapons. As mirrors.
The illusions shattered.
The crowd vanished.
The silk curled into ash.
Her beauty faded. Not into horror. But into truth.
A woman. Alone.
Tears welled in her eyes. Not rage. Grief.
Lucen stepped forward. Calm. Quiet.
"You don't own me," he said. "And I won't destroy you. You showed me how to see through masks. That's enough."
Asmodeus didn't move.
Then, she smiled.
Not like before.
A real smile. Small. Wounded. Eternal.
"Very well," she said.
The rose bloomed in her palm.
It turned to glass.
Then to black steel.
The whip floated in the air between them. Alive.
Velkaria.
A weapon shaped from shadow and light. A whip that could control minds… or free them.
Lucen reached out.
It wrapped around his wrist like smoke.
No joy. No victory.
Only purpose.
"You are beautiful when you choose," she whispered.
And then, she vanished.
The theater collapsed.
The silence returned.
Lucen stood alone.
But something inside had changed.
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Next: Chapter 19 – Velvet Chains