"No way I'm buying that!" Locke snapped, delivering a solid flick to Dio's forehead, making the blond teen wince and bare his teeth.
His face darkened, his tone laced with the sternness of someone who'd just cheated death. "Listen up. Yeah, you drawing the enemy's attention helped me out big time, but that reckless, life-or-death stunt? Never again!"
Staring at Dio's slightly pale face, Locke's heart still raced with lingering fear. "If that fire-wielding maniac had been a bit crueler or reacted a bit faster, your scrawny little frame…"
"Tch." Dio rubbed his reddened forehead, rolling his eyes, clearly brushing off his dad's concern.
But something else was on his mind now. He pointed across the room to an out-of-place presence. "So," he grumbled, "you gonna tell me now? Who the heck is that kid?"
Following his son's gaze, Locke saw a baby nestled quietly in soft swaddling, his pink cheeks and steady breathing bathed in sunlight filtering through the curtains, like he'd been touched up with a soft-focus lens.
"How long was I out?" Locke asked, throwing off the blanket to find his clothes replaced with clean pajamas.
"One night," Dio replied, crossing his arms. "But…" He paused. "The Luther family doc said you'd need at least a week in bed. And yet, here you are, looking like you could knock out a bull with one punch."
Just one night? So it all went down last night…
Locke's heart sank.
Memories flooded back like a sulfur-scented tide: the roaring fire monster, the blue ladybug that shattered after taking a fatal blow for him, and…
The moment Durance fell—
He'd been yanked into a warped, burning realm!
Beneath his feet, a massive hexagram of flowing lava pulsed like a heartbeat with dark red light.
The air was thick with sulfur, so potent it stung his lungs with every breath.
"You may call me… Marbas," a voice boomed, neither male nor female, layered with countless whispering souls, heavy with oppressive force.
Locke snapped his head up. At the center of the space, atop a throne wreathed in black flames, the fire coalesced and took shape—
A bone-chilling… demon?
Black flames formed its massive, twisted body. A goat-skull head bore six eyes blazing with ghostly green fire, all blinking coldly in unison, locked onto him.
Talk about hell-level bad taste. Makes me wanna puke.
Locke narrowed his eyes, fighting down the churning in his gut.
"You killed him. As repayment…" The goat-headed monster tapped its throne with a claw, each strike making the flames tremble and roar. "Take his place as my agent."
"?"
A surge of anger shot through Locke.
In a flash, a radiant platinum figure materialized beside him, brimming with the will to shatter stars. Standing tall, Locke met those six burning eyes with a cold sneer. "And if I say no?"
"Wait," the demon replied curtly, its six eyes flaring brighter.
Boom!
An invisible, soul-crushing pressure slammed down.
It ignited the defiance buried deep in Locke's bones.
"Get lost!" he roared.
Become some half-human, half-ghost freak? They'd have to kill him first!
In the next instant, as if answering its master's resolve, Star Platinum's light exploded. Its violet-gold flames tore through the demonic realm with space-rending force.
Crack!
A piercing shatter echoed!
A blinding white rift tore open the sulfur-and-flame barrier!
The scene warped, and cold, salty sea air replaced the scorching sulfur.
Locke was back on the icy coastal highway.
At his feet, Durance's body was rapidly decaying, crumbling into black ash scattered by the wind.
"I'm back?" Relief flooded him, nearly collapsing his knees.
But that relief lasted less than half a second.
The ground beneath him flared with a dark red hexagram, identical to the one in the demon's realm, radiating an ominous glow.
?!
The relief on Locke's face froze, replaced by disbelief and… a touch of absurd frustration.
You hell demons work that fast?!
If you'd told me you'd retaliate this quick, we could've talked it out!
Gritting his teeth against the pain threatening to shred his mind, Locke focused, Star Platinum flickering faintly beside him, ready to strike.
In his head, he cursed his unreliable partner: Where the hell is Logan? Did he swim to the Pacific or what? Still not in Metropolis?!
Whoosh!
The dark red hexagram blazed like a boiling blood pool! The space at its center warped violently, a thicker, more terrifying aura of sulfur and destruction surging forth.
Whatever Marbas had sent this time was no small fry.
As the terrifying entity was about to fully emerge, Locke braced himself, ready to—
Run for it!
But before he could take two steps, his strategic retreat screeched to a halt.
Ding!
A cold, emotionless, robotic voice—completely out of place in the moment—rang in his mind:
[Adoption Target: Dio Kent. Guardianship Period: 3,287 days. Assessment complete.]
[Evaluation: Dio Kent—physical, mental, aesthetic, and labor health metrics met. Development status: Good.]
"?"
A giant question mark might as well have appeared over Locke's head.
The absurd notification short-circuited his brain.
In that split-second of shock, the flickering hexagram's warping space suddenly stilled. No monstrous demon claws, no all-consuming flames…
Instead, a swaddled baby appeared out of thin air, sleeping soundly.
…???
Pure instinct kicked in. Before the baby could hit the ground, Locke's body moved faster than his brain, catching the warm little life in his arms.
At that same moment, a faint but sharp shink—like a hot knife through butter—came from behind.
Whipping around—
Under the moonlight, a familiar burly figure was retracting his gleaming adamantium claws.
Logan…
That unreliable jerk finally showed up when he was least needed.
Exhaling, Locke's taut nerves relaxed, and a tidal wave of exhaustion and mental backlash hit him.
---
Back in the present.
The memory fragments pieced together, becoming clear.
That cold, mechanical voice echoed again:
[Ding!]
[Adoption Target: Dio Kent. Guardianship Period: 3,287 days. Assessment complete.]
[Evaluation: Dio Kent—physical, mental, aesthetic, and labor health metrics met. Development status: Good.]
[You have proven your educational capability, meeting the criteria to unlock the second adoption target.]
[Target confirmed: Bagua Li-Fire—Holy Lord.]
[Parental Privilege: Bagua Gen-Mountain (loaded).]
[Please guide their physical, mental, aesthetic, and labor health to foster a great legacy.]
[Next adoption target countdown: Six years.]
Oh…
The Holy Lord?!
Locke fell silent, recalling the description from his memories.
The Li of the Bagua, a primordial divine spirit, the one true dragon.
Bearer of dragon flame, eyes aglow with divine light, unbound by heaven or earth, wielding the power of infinite transformation.
From stillness to motion, from mortal to divine.
An immortal soul, an eternal body.
Strength to move mountains and fill seas, speed to rival light, hidden from the world when desired.
Divine power to dispel all poisons and plagues, commanding the cycle of yin and yang, discerning good from evil at its source.
"This kid…" Locke started to say.
A soft knock came at the door.
"Come in."
Gray entered with a tray, visibly startled to see Locke awake. "Mr. Locke? Your recovery speed is… way beyond expectations."
"Thanks to your care," Locke said with a genuine smile.
"But…" Gray set the tray down, frowning. "The doctor was clear—you could have internal bleeding or neurological shock. You need at least a week of rest."
"Miss Gray," Locke cut in smoothly, steering the conversation elsewhere, "where's Lionel? Still in Metropolis?"
Gray realized she might've overstepped and straightened up. "Sorry, Mr. Locke. The boss came by last night to make sure you were out of danger, then left me to look after you and young Master Dio. As for him…" She paused meaningfully. "You know, LutherCorp's chopper showing up at an explosion site needs a thorough 'official' explanation and PR cleanup."
Locke nodded, getting it.
That black helicopter with the massive logo was practically a billboard announcing LutherCorp's involvement.
Man, I'm racking up debts with that guy.
"Oh, and…" Locke's face darkened as he glanced at Dio. "Where's that 'reliable' Uncle Logan of yours?"
"Someone call my name?" a raspy voice came from the doorway. Logan leaned against the frame, holding a half-eaten banana, grinning to show his white teeth. "That you, Locke?"
"You—" Locke's temple throbbed. "Real 'timely' arrival last night, huh?"
Scratching his messy hair, Logan's eyes drifted to the sky outside, like he was recalling a rough journey. "Didn't expect to swim that long… Should've borrowed a speedboat in Gotham. You know, folks there are real friendly—always happy to help."
"…"
Dio's red eyes flared with indignation. The World appeared behind him, fists clenched tight.
"Uncle Logan…" Dio said. "So you really swam here and that's why you were late?"
The room fell silent. Locke rubbed his forehead, pretty sure he knew the answer.
If Jotaro hadn't, on a whim, used Golden Experience to turn their old remote into a blue ladybug…
If that ladybug hadn't been around last night…
Without that miraculous damage transfer, Locke's best outcome would've been going down with the demon agent.
Fate's threads were unpredictable. Locke's gaze drifted to Dio.
The boy's red eyes burned with anger, tinged with a hint of fear.
Logan sighed deeply, a complex look crossing his weathered face.
He understood why, in that future without miracles, the tyrant held a special grudge against him.
In that timeline, he'd been too late—failing Locke's trust and unable to stop the tragedy.
"Whatever…" Dio shook his head, forcing down his anger with a cold huff. He pointed at the out-of-place crib. "So, where'd this little thing come from?"
"Where?" Locke chuckled, walking to the crib and looking at the sleeping baby, his tone calm and certain. "He's your brother now, Dio."
"?!"
Dio froze like he'd been struck by lightning, his red pupils shrinking, his voice trembling faintly. "Dad… you don't mean… illegitimate?"
Locke didn't answer the wild question right away.
He stood and walked to the massive floor-to-ceiling window.
Outside, Metropolis's skyline gleamed under the rising sun, brimming with life and hope.
"Dio," Locke said, turning back, the morning light outlining him in gold, making him seem almost ethereal.
The boy stared at his father, stunned.
"Remember that question you asked me a long time ago?" Locke said gently.
The floodgates of memory burst open—
A younger Dio, curled up on the couch, looking up in confusion: "Why… did you adopt me?"
A warm, calloused hand ruffled his hair, paired with a hearty smile. "Why? No big reason. Our father-son bond was just meant to be, that's all." He mussed Dio's hair, his eyes warm. "I'm destined to be your dad, and you're destined to be my son."
"…"
Dio's fists clenched, then relaxed.
Finally, he just grabbed at his messy blond hair. "Fine, do what you want! But don't expect me to change any diapers!"
"Mm." Gray, who'd been quietly listening, showed no extra curiosity. She stepped lightly to the crib, gently lifting the sleeping baby with her slender fingers.
"Mr. Locke, what's his name?"
Locke blinked.
He hadn't thought of a name yet.
The original name was definitely out—imagine telling people, "Hi, this is Holy Lord Kent."
The kid would be traumatized for life.
"A name…" Locke's gaze drifted to the window, where the sunrise blazed, painting the sky in glorious gold and red.
After last night's life-or-death fight and fiery rebirth, a name sparked in his mind, as if kindled by the dawn.
Fire demon…
"Then…" He said softly, "Seraphiel. Seraphiel Kent."
"…"
Seraph? As in, seraphim?
Logan chewed on his banana, suddenly finding it tasteless. He glanced at Locke's resolute expression, then at Dio's sulky, awkward face, and shook his head, his grizzled face full of confusion.
This guy… he's getting harder to figure out.
---
Hell.
The Lava Throne.
The goat-headed demon's six eyes blinked at different rhythms, molten pupils reflecting twisted flames.
"Something's wrong," it whispered, making the souls beneath its throne tremble.
Before it floated a mirror of human bones, meant to show the perspective of its minions.
But…
Marbas tapped the throne's armrest irritably.
The mirror was a chaotic blur of rolling, blinding red light! Like some brute force had smeared meaningless paint over it, blocking all information.
Its chosen minion—carefully selected, forged with its own essence—was dead!
"I… sent it up!" Marbas growled, seething.
All because of that useless Durance!
It had taken thousands of demon lives to forge him in hell, letting him carve a bloody path back to the human world.
And now? He didn't even last six months before getting taken out!
Damn it.
How could a mere human be that strong?!
---