I play a Evil God in Otome Game

Lucifer descended to the ground. As soon as he landed, he observed the destruction around him. Fighting on the beach had been a good idea. The only things destroyed were the belongings that people had abandoned while fleeing.

Beyond that, there was no significant damage. As Lucifer continued his thoughts, he heard the sound of vehicles approaching from behind. Turning around, he saw dozens of armored vehicles arrive, and a Major quickly approached him.

"Major," Lucifer greeted calmly, sensing the officer's unease. It seemed that he had frightened him. Lucifer smiled. "Since the problem is resolved, I believe I'm no longer needed."

The Major nodded but immediately stopped Lucifer as he was about to leave. "Please wait. There's something we need to discuss."

Curious, Lucifer stopped, wondering what the Major wanted to say. Without delay, the Major got to the point. "The Prime Minister wishes to meet with you. I hope you understand. We'd like to host you here until the Prime Minister arrives."

Hearing that the Prime Minister would come didn't particularly concern Lucifer. Although he wanted to leave, meeting the Prime Minister could be useful for now.

"Alright," Lucifer said indifferently with a dismissive wave. "When will they arrive?"

"Within a day," the Major replied seriously before issuing orders to his subordinates. "Prepare the vehicles and block all civilian access until the officials arrive."

Following his command, the soldiers quickly left to secure the beach. The Major then turned back to Lucifer. "Let's go."

Lucifer nodded and boarded an armored vehicle alongside the Major. As the vehicle started moving, silence filled the cabin. Eventually, Lucifer gazed curiously at the deserted streets outside.

Everything on social media revolved around Beliar. There was no news about the cities. It seemed that, due to the chaos, a curfew had been declared in many parts of Los Angeles.

Lucifer was confident the situation would soon normalize. He believed people would return to their routines within a day—at least, that was his assumption.

The losses were significant. After a memorial service and the Prime Minister's condolence message, attention would likely shift to the upcoming UN meeting in New York.

Lucifer turned to the Major. "What do you think?"

"Hmm?"

"I mean, what do you think will happen? How will people react?" Seeing the Major's confusion, Lucifer elaborated. The Major remained silent for a moment, watching the city through the window.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

Then he began to speak. "If this had been a terrorist or gang attack, the Prime Minister would certainly face backlash. But this is different."

The Major continued seriously, "After the catastrophe in Rome, people are already suspicious and anxious. The Prime Minister and the Cabinet will likely handle this delicately and look for ways to ease public concerns."

Listening to the Major, Lucifer felt this was a natural process. People would feel the impact of this event and seek an explanation. Even if the Prime Minister had the courage to claim it was a supernatural attack, the majority of the population—realists—would ridicule the notion.

Upon further reflection, Lucifer sensed the Prime Minister might be desperate. Despite living in an era dominated by cameras and social media, people were inherently skeptical of things they couldn't see with their own eyes.

Not that it mattered to Lucifer. Whether people believed or not didn't harm him. The only difficulty lay in justifying his actions.

No nation would allow a foreign military presence within its borders. Lucifer wasn't naive enough to believe otherwise. That was why he wanted to attend a UN meeting.

"We're here."

Lucifer's thoughts were interrupted as the Major exited the vehicle. Stepping out, Lucifer found himself at a well-guarded luxury hotel. It appeared the Prime Minister would meet him here.

"We've reserved a room for you," the Major said, handing Lucifer a key. He added calmly, "Remember, all expenses are on us. Feel free to spend as you like."

Lucifer took the key, indifferent to the luxury. He then headed to his room.

Meanwhile, in Avalon, inside Azazel's palace, two individuals were conversing. Standing with a pleased expression was Azazel, while kneeling in pain on the floor was Beliar.

"Good work, Beliar," Azazel said with a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. Beliar lowered his head, accepting his king's praise. Though humiliated, receiving approval was still motivating.

"It's an honor to please you," Beliar replied, his tone lacking genuine sincerity. Azazel, examining Beliar's injuries, licked his lips with sadistic delight. "You should have heeded my warning, Beliar. I told you so."

Beliar clenched his teeth, staying silent, afraid to respond. Azazel seemed to revel in his suffering, even enjoying it.

"My lord, that man—"

"Yes, the one you fought was our father himself." Azazel delivered the shocking news, watching Beliar's eyes widen in disbelief. Beliar raised his head in astonishment. "But he died long ago!"

"Why he's alive again, I don't know," Azazel admitted thoughtfully. "Still, our father's return will benefit us. With his help, we can settle unfinished matters."

Thinking of Arthur and that false Goddess, Azazel let out a cold growl. He would annihilate those two pests, torment their loved ones, and reclaim the universe that was rightfully theirs.

Hearing Azazel's remarks about Lucifer's return, Beliar felt conflicted. If Lucifer returned, would Azazel willingly relinquish his throne to him? The mere thought gave Beliar a headache.

"Do you mean to simply allow it, my lord?" Beliar asked cautiously. Azazel growled but remained silent. Emboldened by the lack of response, Beliar continued, "If our father returns, will you abdicate the throne to him?"

Before Beliar could process what happened, a gust of wind struck him. At first, he thought nothing of it—until his right arm was severed and fell to the ground.

As blood spurted from the wound, Beliar wanted to scream in pain but restrained himself, knowing Azazel wouldn't tolerate such weakness.

Azazel turned coldly, looking at Beliar with disgust, as if he were an insect. "Since when did you gain the audacity to question my plans, Beliar?"

Taking a step forward, Azazel's mana pressure overwhelmed Beliar, forcing him to suppress the urge to vomit. The mere presence of Azazel's power made his magical core ache, and blood seeped from his lips.

"It seems I've been too lenient with you lately," Azazel remarked with disappointment and disdain. He found even the slightest defiance from demons like Beliar revolting.

These worms couldn't even master obedience. Azazel growled. "Tell me, Beliar. Do you think I need your foolish opinions?"

Beliar was too incapacitated to respond. Truthfully, his entire body felt as though it had failed. Even kneeling brought unbearable strain.

Azazel smirked sadistically. "Answer me, Beliar. You have three seconds."

Beliar's eyes widened in terror. As he opened his mouth, blood spilled out. Azazel's smirk deepened, but his eyes remained devoid of warmth. "Well, Beliar?"

Paralyzed by fear and hatred, Beliar could only tremble under Azazel's dominance. Gently gripping Beliar's chin, Azazel asked mockingly, "Are you afraid, Beliar?"

Looking into Beliar's bloodstained eyes, Azazel smiled before cruelly raising his hand. In one swift motion, he grabbed Beliar's right horn and shattered it effortlessly.

"N-no!"

Seeing his horn—a symbol of authority for demons—destroyed, Beliar froze in terror. For demons, their horns were as significant as wings for angels.

A hornless demon was akin to a wingless angel. Even if he wanted to, Beliar didn't dare attack Azazel. All he could do was submit.

Azazel sneered as Beliar, now visibly broken, begged for mercy. With a gesture, the broken horn disintegrated into dust, scattering into Avalon.

"Let this serve as a lesson, Beliar," Azazel said before kicking him with enough force to send him crashing into a door. Turning away, Azazel left a final warning. "Insolent worms like you have no place questioning me. Do it again, and I'll end your pathetic life."

As Azazel's body vanished in a flash of light, Beliar finally collapsed, vomiting black blood onto the ground.

"Damn you—damn you, Azazel!" Beliar trembled with rage as flames erupted from his body, incinerating nearby servants before he disappeared.

"Lord Beliar!"

A fairy from Beliar's harem rushed to his side as he reappeared, injured and furious.

"Are you alright?" the fairy asked gently, her voice filled with concern. She attempted to heal him with magic, but Beliar grabbed her by the throat.

"I've decided you'll be my nourishment, fairy," Beliar declared as he drained her life force. The fairy's unique vitality quickly healed his wounds, regenerating his severed arm in the process.

Leaving the faded corpse of the fairy without a second glance, Beliar stormed into his palace. Shoving the succubi out of his way, he made his way to his throne.

"Bring me all the potions!" Beliar commanded angrily. As his slaves scrambled to fulfill his order, Beliar began trying every elixir to heal his horn.

"Azazel! Azazel!!!"

Beliar unleashed his fury, destroying everything in sight. He continued to slaughter everyone in the throne room until it was practically drenched in blood. Even after tearing apart his last servant, his rage remained unquenched.

"You will pay for this..." Beliar growled as he slumped onto his throne. Summoning an icy mirror, he gazed at his broken horn with utter disappointment. "One day, you will pay for what you've done to me..."

Afterward, Beliar shattered the icy mirror and began testing the healing potions his slaves had brought him.

No matter how hard he tried, Beliar's horn refused to regenerate. With a burst of anger, he incinerated every potion brought to him into ashes and cursed furiously.

"Is there nothing else?" Beliar demanded of one of his slaves. The slave trembled with fear. Consumed by rage, Beliar set the slave ablaze, then turned his gaze to the others bowing in submission. "Go and bring me every potion you can find! Failure means death!"

As he sent his slaves away, Beliar suddenly sensed a presence entering his throne room. He was startled but shouted arrogantly, "Who dares?! Show yourself!"

When he saw a cloaked man stepping inside, Beliar's fiery gaze fixed on him in fury. Smirking, Beliar unleashed flames that engulfed the throne room. "Vermin, I don't know how you got in here, but you've come to die."

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"I haven't come to fight, Lord Beliar."

Beliar's eyebrows furrowed at the sound of the man's voice. Recognizing his identity, Beliar stood up in utter disbelief. "You—you're that man."

The mysterious figure smirked. From beneath his crimson cloak, a fiery glow, almost draconic, illuminated his face. "I've come here to make a deal."

Beliar trembled, stepping back. Even in the presence of Azazel, Beliar had stood firm, but now he struggled to maintain his composure, retreating in fear. "You're supposed to be dead! You—how can you still be alive?"

"That's irrelevant to you, Lord Beliar," the mysterious figure said calmly. Despite the occasional distortion of his form, Beliar recognized it as a projection spell, which gave him some relief.

"What do you want?" Beliar asked cautiously, his voice trembling. The cloaked man simply smiled. "I'm only here to propose a deal."

Despite his fear, an inner voice urged Beliar to listen. "Fine, speak. What do you want?"

The mysterious man smiled and began to explain, presenting his offer. "Listen carefully to what I have to say, Lord Beliar."

And so, the enigmatic figure laid out his proposal.