"Hiding a descendant of our house could be seen as a sign of weakness," my new father's voice was cold and measured, like the slow drip of water in a dark cave.
"And right now, the House of Lucifuge must appear strong and unshakable to maintain order in the Underworld. Although Inflis possesses a demonic power that is unusual for our bloodline, he has enough of it to demonstrate an acceptable level of potential."
'So, my input in this conversation isn't required,' I thought to myself with a flicker of amusement. 'Well, to hell with them. Oh, right. We're already here.'
I smiled brightly, a picture of childish delight at having my "potential" acknowledged. I saw the man behind the desk, Rofocale, quickly look away.
The bitter taste of guilt I sensed from him grew stronger.
He knew his treatment of his second son was unfair, but he was powerless to change how he felt.
He reminded me of the hypocritical elders from the righteous sects, the ones who walked around with ramrod-straight backs and emotionless faces.
But beneath those masks of indifference, they were boiling cauldrons of feeling. I had seen it in their eyes, the resentment, the regret, and especially the pure, unadulterated hatred when I destroyed everything they had spent centuries building.
"You may go," he said, his voice dismissing us. "And Euclis, do not forget to come to my study this evening. I must assess your progress in magic and the basics of managing our House's territories."
"Yes, Father," my brother replied, his earlier arrogance gone.
I followed him out of the room, feeling our father's heavy gaze on my back. This situation, being the ignored and somewhat despised son, had its pros and cons.
On the one hand, my access to the House's resources would be limited. On the other, being ignored meant I was also free from scrutiny.
No one would notice if my knowledge suddenly increased, or if I began my own secret training to restore my cultivation and learn to blend my old power with this new demonic energy. It was an acceptable trade-off.
Instead of following Euclis, I turned down a different hallway. I was heading for the greatest treasure in this entire estate: the library.
Unfortunately, my mother was not here. She was away, assigned to "observe" a demon named Sirzechs Gremory, a figure who had apparently caused the demon leadership a great deal of concern some fifty years ago.
The very idea that someone could give my mother orders was infuriating.
The thought that her precious time was being wasted watching over someone other than me, her most devoted instrument, was doubly so.
I took a deep breath, running a hand through my short black hair to calm myself. I needed to grow it out as quickly as possible.
I would even create special tonics to care for it, so that if my mother ever wished to touch it again, it would be soft and perfect for her.
The white doors of the library swung open easily.
"Young master," a voice greeted me. A one-armed, one-eyed demon bowed his head. He was the librarian.
I gave him a small, patronizing nod. "Where are the books on the Great War?" I asked.
"Straight ahead, third turn on the right. The first shelf has the chronicles and records of the war," he said, his voice laced with a faint boredom.
He was a veteran of that same war. Instead of casting him aside as a useless cripple, Rofocale had given him this position.
Perhaps the librarian had some hidden value, or more likely, it was just a sentimental whim of my new father's.
I found the section and pulled out a heavy tome. The Morning Star's Rebellion: The Records of Beelzebub.
The book felt solid in my hand, and I noticed the text was perfectly printed, not handwritten. It seemed these demons had advanced printing techniques, similar to some of the Dao spells from my world.
I carried the book to a reading table and opened it. With every page I read, I became more convinced that these demons were fundamentally wrong.
According to the lore of my old world, demons were born from the world's pain, its anger and resentment, all of which collected in the Underworld, the realm of King Yama.
They fed on negative emotions to grow stronger.
But here, according to this book, demons were born from light. They were beings of light who had been twisted by darkness.
Their great ancestor, Lucifer, was once the "first among angels." He rebelled against God's will to make angels serve humanity and was cast into a cage in the Underworld.
But his loyal followers and a human woman named Lilith freed him. His time in the Underworld had transformed him, making him both beautiful and terrible.
He, in turn, transformed his followers, creating the first devils. He then conquered the Underworld, named it Hell, and declared himself its emperor. It was a fascinating, and utterly unbelievable, story.
The Lord decided it was time to claim his rightful throne in Heaven, and so he led the legions of Hell to war…
I was about to read on when a sound cut through the library's silence, the distinct, rhythmic click of a woman's boots on the stone floor.
I carefully closed the book and placed it on the table. To disrespect a source of knowledge was to disrespect the power that knowledge could bring.
I stood up quickly, smoothing my clothes, trying to look presentable. And then, she appeared from behind a bookshelf.
It was her. She looked younger than the last time I had seen her, perhaps like a girl of sixteen, but it was unmistakably my mother.
She had the same silver hair that shimmered like moonlight, and the same beautiful, crimson eyes that reminded me of the sea of blood in my soul.
Here, she was known as Grayfia Lucifuge. She was wearing a black and yellow traveling dress, and a look of concern was on her face as she saw me standing there, frozen.
"Inflis? Are you alright?"
Sin. My mere presence was causing my mother to worry.
"My apologies, sister," I said, my voice smooth and practiced. "It is just that the sight of you in that lovely dress has made my black heart beat faster than usual."
I gave a slight bow, placing my right hand over my heart. With my left hand, hidden from her view, I made a small, secret gesture with my fingers, a signal known only to me and the leader of the Black Heart clan.
My mother, who had been frozen in surprise, suddenly blushed a deep red and shook her head.
"What are you talking about…? Have you been reading those romance novels again, trying to tease me?"
I kept the smile fixed on my face, not letting a single crack show that might worry her.
To maintain one's composure, to endure even when you want to scream and tear your hair out, that was the first lesson she had ever taught me. But it didn't make this any easier.
She didn't remember.