Chapter 25: A New Age.
The chamber remained suffocatingly silent. The weight of Satan’s presence crushed the air itself.
Asmodeus, Ash, slowly lifted her chin. Her expression unreadable, but there was glint in her eyes. It was defiance.
“You have been meeting with my vessel, haven’t you, Asmodeus?” Satan’s voice was neither loud nor soft. It simply was.
A smirk tugged at her lips. “You act like this wasn’t what you wanted.”
The air shifted. Imperceptibly. But those who sat in this room understood what it meant.
Belzeebub’s fingers twitched against the armrest of his throne, resisting the urge to flinch.
Leviathan, looked uninterested but listened.
Mammon only smiled, the corners of his mouth curling upward like he was watching a game he already knew the outcome of.
Satan didn’t move.
Ash took it as an invitation to continue.
“You knew he’d go for the job. You knew he’d break into Black Dawn.” She leaned forward, elbows resting against her knees. “And you knew—without him—that door wouldn’t have opened.”
The silence deepened.
Lazaro—Belphegor—exhaled through his nose, rubbing his temple. “You’re suggesting Satan needed a human to breach the underworld’s gates?” He sounded more exhausted than skeptical.
“Not just any human,” Ash corrected. “Him.”
The implications weren’t lost on them.
Grim wasn’t just a random piece in a chaotic game.
He was a keystone.
Satan, however, remained still. Unmoved. Unbothered.
When he spoke, it wasn’t in defense or explanation. It was simply fact.
“And?”
The single word sent a ripple through the chamber.
Ash narrowed her eyes.
He wasn’t denying it.
But he wasn’t giving her an answer, either.
The silence stretched.
Satan did not move. Did not blink.
He merely waited.
The weight of his gaze pressed against Ash’s very existence, something far beyond intimidation. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t annoyance.
It was patience.
The kind that came from someone who had existed since before time itself—who had seen empires rise and crumble, kings declare war and beg for mercy.
The kind of patience that was not a courtesy, but a test.
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A moment passed. Then another.
You think you’re still testing us… Like we’re pawns in your cosmic board game
But the weight behind his look wasn’t judgement, but rather certainty.
The kind that didn’t need to prove itself.
The kind that dare you to speak again.
The smirk that had once played on Ash’s lips faded.
She exhaled, slow and steady. Then—without hesitation—she bowed her head.
“My apologies,” she said.
No excuses. No explanations. Just acceptance.
A tension rippled.
Just beneath the skeleton of the chamber – subtle, but no less absolute.
Satan finally spoke.
“Do not mistake your role for significance, Asmodeus.”
It was not a warning. It was not a threat.
It was a reminder.
A flicker of something passed through Ash’s expression, but she kept her head lowered.
“I understand.”
Satan did not acknowledge the response. His attention had already moved elsewhere.
The matter was over.
The meeting continued.
The air remained heavy, but the tension no longer crackled.
Satan’s presence alone dictated the pace of the meeting.
He took his seat.
“Continue.”
His voice carried the weight of inevitability. The meeting was never going to be derailed.
Ash straightened, her expression neutral once more.
"We have acquired the document," she stated. "The map. The key to the ancient vault."
A ripple passed through the room.
Belzeebub leaned forward, his grin widening. “A key, you say?”
His nails clawed intro the throne, his hunger creeping in “And what exactly does it open?”
Lazaro exhaled, sluggish and tired as always. “A place older than Hell itself.”
Belzeebub’s grin only grew, his hunger barely contained. “Older than Hell…” he mused, licking his lips. “I wonder how it tastes.”
Leviathan scoffed. “You never learn.”
Ash ignored the exchange.
"The vault contains something crucial," she continued. "The last remnants of the war between Heaven and Hell. If we obtain it, we control history itself."
Silence.
A moment passed. Then another.
Satan finally spoke.
"The path is open.”
A flicker of something passed through the gathered demons—understanding, revelation, something unspoken yet absolute.
Because they knew.
Duskwatch. The destruction. The chaos.
It had never been Asmodeus.
Never been Belphegor.
It had been Satan himself who tore open the Gates of Hell.
For his own reasons.
For his own design.
And none of them dared question it.
Mammon tilted his head. “Then the next move?”
The air shifted.
Satan exhaled, slow, deliberate.
Then—
The scene cut to black.
A sleek screen flickered to life. The host’s face was partially shadowed, their voice steady but urgent.
“Breaking news. A previously uncharted landmass within the Bermuda Triangle has been identified. Its existence has long been obscured by electromagnetic anomalies, but recent satellite data suggests something unprecedented.”
The feed cut to a satellite image.
A vortex.
Dark. Pulsing. Faint energy spiraling in slow, unnatural patterns—centered exactly where Duskwatch stood.
“This disturbance first appeared forty-eight hours ago, following an unexplained explosion within the region. Several scientific organizations, including the Global Anomaly Division, have reported a spike in unidentified energy signatures. Reports suggest…” The host hesitated. “…a phenomenon beyond conventional understanding.”
The screen glitched.
Another video played—a leaked military transmission.
“This is Unit E-27. We have unidentified aerial phenomena over the Bermuda Triangle. I repeat, we have—”
Static.
The audio distorted before cutting off completely.
Silence.
Then—
“We’re not alone out here.”
THE UNITED NATIONS—EMERGENCY ASSEMBLY
“We can’t ignore this any longer.” The voice of a UN official cut through the tension.
“Duskwatch was always an unregulated zone, but now? The satellites, the missing aircraft—whatever is happening there is beyond any conventional threat.”
A junior analyst in the corner whispered, voice trembling, “It’s like the Earth itself is bleeding.”
Another official leaned forward. “And yet, no government is claiming involvement?”
“None.”
“This isn’t a city..” someone whispered. “It’s a warning.”
Silence.
A grim realization settled over the room.
Duskwatch had become more than a lawless city.
It was a wound in reality itself.
SOMEWHERE UNKNOWN
A dimly lit chamber.
A man sat before a vast array of holographic screens. His silhouette was sharp, his posture relaxed yet commanding.
The feeds displayed everything—the destruction, the military response, the rising global panic.
His lips curled into a small smile.
“They’re finally catching on.”
He leaned forward.
“And soon…” His voice was eerily familiar, laced with authority, smooth as silk.
“…they’ll know who’s pulling the strings.”
