Morning dawned on the city.
Dr. Wade was already awake.
Her morning routine was as disciplined as ever — a jog, a workout, a shower.
There are two kinds of people with great figures: those born with them, and those who earn them.
Dr. Wade was clearly the latter — every perfect curve of her peach-like body came from years of effort and persistence.
When her exercise ended, she drove to work. Soon, her car stopped before a towering skyscraper that dwarfed every other building nearby. Thirty stories of glass and steel, its very presence made the rest of the skyline look stunted and incomplete.
Dr. Wade took the elevator up. She was on her way to her laboratory when—
A faint glimmer flashed across her ring.
Her body froze. The next instant, her eyes lost focus, her expression turning blank. Instead of pressing her usual floor, her hand moved on its own — pressing the button to the top floor.
Moments later, she stepped out into the corridor that led to the top executive suite.
Her steps were slow, stiff, deliberate.
Lining both sides of the corridor were men in dark suits — tall, broad, and unnervingly quiet. Even standing still, they exuded a pressure that made ordinary people instinctively lower their heads.
Their gazes turned toward Dr. Wade.
Some looked curious, some mocking, others even greedy — but none showed lust.
Their stares were not those of men looking at a woman.
They were hunters appraising prey.
Normally, Dr. Wade despised walking through this place. Every one of these men radiated something wrong — an aura that prickled against her instincts.
But today, she felt nothing. She ignored them completely and walked straight to the door of her boss's office.
Before she could even knock, the door creaked open on its own.
Dr. Wade stepped inside.
Before her stood a tall, rigid man with hair as white as frost, his back to her, gazing through the window over the city below.
Hearing her footsteps, the man turned. His sharp, cold eyes swept across her face.
"Dr. Dr. Wade," he said. "What brings you here today?"
His tone was calm, almost detached. But there was something probing about his stare — as if he could see through her soul.
"Boss," Dr. Wade said, her voice even, emotionless. "I found something… interesting. Something I think might suit you."
The man's eyes narrowed, curiosity flickering behind the coldness.
"Oh? Let me see."
Dr. Wade stepped closer, both hands outstretched. Resting in her palms was a ring — plain, unassuming, but faintly gleaming with hidden light.
For a moment, the man studied her expression. Then a faint, mocking smile curved his lips.
He took the ring without hesitation, examining it briefly before sliding it onto his finger.
"Let's see," he murmured, his tone dripping with disdain. "What those winged fools are trying to pull this time."
He already knew something was off. Dr. Wade's behavior alone was enough to warn him. But what of it?
He was no mere mortal.
He was a Prince of Hell — the Demon Prince, Hell's chosen emissary in the mortal realm, destined to become its future King.
What did he have to fear?
The angels? Those self-righteous idiots with feathers on their backs?
He laughed silently. Let them try.
Nothing happened. The ring sat on his finger quietly, no strange energy, no trap.
Meanwhile, Dr. Wade blinked, as if waking from a dream. Confused, she looked around.
"Huh? Why am I here?"
The Demon Prince gave her a passing glance, his tone indifferent.
"Go back to your lab."
She hesitated, then nodded apologetically and left the room. She was used to his temper — and to the weight of her paycheck.
Once she was gone, the Demon Prince turned his gaze back to the ring. His expression was now one of cold amusement.
"The human has left," he said quietly. "Still not ready to reveal yourself?"
He was certain now. This trinket wasn't random — it was the work of his enemies, the Nightwing Dragon Clan.
But fear? No, that wasn't in his vocabulary.
Let them try whatever schemes they wanted — he'd face them head-on.
He smirked. "As you wish."
The ring flickered with a soft light.
The Demon Prince sneered. "Finally. Couldn't wait, could you? Too bad—"
He stopped mid-sentence.
The mocking grin froze. His eyes went wide, body trembling violently.
A vast, crushing will — divine, majestic, and impossibly heavy — exploded within his mind.
It was not demonic.
It was holy.
An overwhelming force, beyond his comprehension, beyond even Hell's kings, slammed through his consciousness like the fist of a god.
He tried to resist.
He tried to scream.
But his body was no longer his own.
The Demon Prince — a being feared by mortals and demons alike — could only tremble helplessly as his soul was torn apart, his mind crushed, his very being rewritten in an instant.
One second.
Two.
Three.
Then his eyes opened again.
But they were no longer his.
A flicker of divine light passed through them — the faint glow of the God of Light.
When it faded, a calm, deep, calculating gaze took its place.
"An ordinary Demon Prince," Balder murmured, flexing his new hand. "And yet, he possessed transcendent-level strength. Then that means… their Demon King must be even higher."
His eyes narrowed slightly, thoughtful.
"Peak transcendence? Or perhaps… already at the level of an Archfather."
He sifted through the Demon Prince's memories — countless years of corruption, sacrifice, and blood.
But of the King of Hell, there was little. Too little.
"How mysterious," Balder mused softly. "Still… it narrows things down."
"If the ruler of Hell stands as God's opposite, then only two possibilities remain —"
"Either Lucifer, the Morning Star who fell and became Satan..."
"Or Hell itself — an independent will born from the abyss."
He smiled faintly.
"The second is fine. But if it's the first…"
He chuckled, his voice low.
"Then it gets troublesome. Lucifer's fall might just be another of God's games. After all—"
Without fear, where would faith come from?
Heaven and Hell — two sides of the same coin. A performance between brothers.
"So be it," Balder said softly. "Let's test which one this world has."
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