Chapter Text
"I... wasn't sure what happened then either…"
"All I could say was that a flash occurred. The very evening skies itself was set ablaze. I was rendered paralyzed for a moment. My eyes blinded from what I assumed was a celestial attack."
"I was ready for a confrontation. To face toe to toe against the hosts of Araphel. But… that's not what occurred."
"And that was when you found me." Another voice concluded.
"Yes."
Darkened clouds engulfed the horizons as the two lovers, Rubra and Caeruleus, embarked within their twilight journey. The old demon soared above a silent forest. Quite more than ready to rest at his abode - perhaps indulge in a warm bath - before finally calling it a day.
The most recent meeting with the 13 Crowns did not went rather productive. However, and then again-he chuckled cynically-when did it?
Sullivan sighed. All those talks and endless squabbles at who should fill in the place left behind by Derkila - it was amusing at first but after a while it simply became boresome.
Why couldn't they just accept that he didn't desire for such a position? To be Demon King takes more than just power and an honorable reputation, and he should know this - far more than anyone.
If the old king was still here, who knows what he would be doing?
Carving out his own path. Most likely.
He proceeded overhead beyond the reaches of thorn-filled branches. Riding the winds with his large wings. Serene was the environment. Not a sound nor a critter in site. A perfect space to clear his head prior to arriving home. He mused if whether he should contact Opera to hitherto prepare a cup of hot Hell Grey tea for him…
Then, suddenly came a flash. The heavens burned as an intense glow entered through his peripheries. Naturally, the demon covered his sights. Arms shielding him from the extreme light that fortuitously appeared without warning.
Struck dumb at first - it only took Sullivan a few seconds prior to recollecting himself and then analyze the current situation.
His first conclusion went to them. Like of course it would. No demon or magical beast from the Netherworld could ever hope to produce such an intense ray. Even those whose bloodline magic were connected to light couldn't possess the power to transform night into dawn. To set the stars ablaze.
It has to be, no doubt. An invasion from Araphel. A war from the Heavenly Hosts. With a deep huff, Sullivan fought through his instinctual urge to squirm. Preparing himself to do battle against the first holy blade he encounters.
He was ready. He was set. Engaged to defend his old master's legacy. Let the angels come, he dared.
And yet, that… that wasn't at all what came to pass. No winged knights. No celestial warriors. No cherubim, principalities, or virtues. Instead as the lights deemed away, what he witnessed was-was a shimmer. A fraction of the firmament shattering out from the sky. A 'star'? Sullivan first assumed. A star. And it was falling. Falling from great heights.
A small explosion occurred upon impact as he watched trees bowed and the Earth yield. A massive crater the 'star' left behind whilst he loomed to investigate.
Then…
From the hole where the star had crashed, the old demon was momentarily rendered flabbergasted with bated breath as he gleaned at a hand emerging from terra's depths. It shook and trembled as it struggled to hoist the rest of it.
Perhaps out of mild curiosity, or maybe due to his own sense of duty to check if this 'star' (if it really was one) wasn't a threat, the demon made his descent. His feet just a few inches from the small pit.
Then…
His own pupils widened behind his glass eyewear. This star. This fraction of celestial bright, it was… a boy. A boy that seemed no older than most of his freshmen students. A boy with blue hair and orbs that appeared worn and exhausted. A boy all covered in scars and bruises, his clothes tethered and ruined.
An angel?
"Please…"
Sullivan jerked back upon hearing the celestial's voice. And only now did his aged eyes took notice of the latter's fading light, his diminishing halo, his… his wings.
Burned, battered, shriveled,… broken.
This… where-where was the vision of glory often displayed by his kind? Where was the presence that demanded for both command and authority?
Was… was this an angel at all?
A trick? A trap so he would lower his defenses?
"Please…" he heard his voice again, weak and quivering.
Sullivan wasn't sure what happened next and why, but once the angel had finally exhaust the last ounce of strength he held to keep himself awake, he himself-a demon-an enemy to the divine, hurriedly reached and caught him.
"Please…" the angel-no, the boy continued to speak even whilst no longer conscious. "Please… could… could you please tell me… Who am I?"
He became speechless for a moment. Gently setting him down as to take a better assessment of him. He looked peaceful, harmless, pure.
A decision was then formed from inside Sullivan's mind as he answered, "Yes…"
"you're my grandson."