The fight didn’t last as long as they expected.

Lucifer hit the first adversary before it could even get its bearings. His hand closed around its throat, and the creature’s eyes went wide—not from pain, but from recognition. It knew what was holding it. A Progenitor. A real one.

The shadows didn’t just crush. They consumed.

By the time Lucifer dropped the body, it was already ash. No speech. No declaration. Just efficiency.

Ken tackled a second adversary mid-rise, his claws digging into its shoulder as he drove it back into the rubble. The thing tried to phase through him, but Ken’s grip had shifted—his aura was different now, denser, like his own evolution had been waiting for permission.

Angel was on another before it could stand, flames already burning through its defenses. She didn’t give it room to breathe. She just kept pressing, burning, cutting.

Mob caught a blade meant for Dera’s back. The metal shattered against his forearm. He didn’t even blink. He just turned and backhanded the adversary so hard it spun twice before hitting a wall.

Dera moved through the chaos like a ghost, her knives finding gaps in armor, in flesh, in concentration. She didn’t kill any of them outright, but she didn’t need to. She just needed them distracted.

Remu’s magic wove through the battlefield, not as explosions, but as chains—binding, slowing, tripping. Every adversary that tried to fly was yanked down. Every attempt to regroup was interrupted.

Daniel was having fun. Too much fun. He found an adversary that tried to bargain with him mid-fight and laughed in its face before setting it on fire from the inside out.

The lead adversary—the one who had spoken from the sky—finally got to its feet. It was bigger than the others, its body covered in shifting symbols that pulsed with dark light. It looked at Lucifer and snarled.

"You think this changes anything? You’re still outnumbered. Still outmatched. Still—"

Lucifer appeared in front of it.

Not moved. Appeared.

The lead adversary’s words died in its throat.

"Still what?" Lucifer asked, tilting his head.

The creature swung.

Lucifer caught its wrist with one hand. The impact should have cracked stone. It didn’t even make him grunt.

"You don’t understand what I am now," Lucifer said, his voice low. "You’re not fighting a vampire. You’re not fighting a demon. You’re not even fighting a Progenitor."

He squeezed.

The adversary’s wrist snapped.

"You’re fighting whatever comes next."

He pulled.

The arm tore free.

The lead adversary screamed—a sound that wasn’t sound, something that clawed at the edges of reality. The other adversaries froze, watching their leader fall to one knee, black blood pouring from the wound.

Lucifer tossed the arm aside. It dissolved before it hit the ground.

"Retreat," the lead adversary gasped.

No one moved.

"I said retreat!"

The remaining adversaries scrambled. Some vanished into portals. Some just ran. Some tried to fly, only to be yanked down by Remu’s chains or cut down by Ken’s claws.

In less than a minute, the dozen had become three.

The lead adversary looked up at Lucifer, its body already destabilizing. "Adam will—"

"Adam will what?" Lucifer cut in. "Send more of you? Come himself? Hide behind his walls and pretend he’s still a god?"

He crouched down, bringing his face level with the dying creature.

"Tell him something for me."

The adversary’s eyes flickered.

Lucifer’s voice dropped to almost a whisper.

"Tell him I’m coming for his throne. And when I get there, I’m not going to kill him fast."

He stood.

"I’m going to make him watch while I tear apart everything he built. The angels. The humans who follow him. The precious New Earth he bleeds for."

He turned his back on the creature.

"Go. Before I change my mind."

The adversary didn’t wait. It clawed at the air, tearing open a portal, and dragged itself through.

The battlefield went quiet.

Ken walked over, breathing hard, blood on his knuckles. "You let it live?"

Lucifer watched the portal close. "For now."

Angel wiped her face. "That’s not like you."

"No," Lucifer agreed. "It’s not."

He turned to face the sky. The clouds were still churning. The golden light of Adam’s sanctum still pulsed in the distance.

"But I don’t want Adam sending messengers anymore. I want him to hear my voice directly."

He raised his head.

"ADAM!"

The name tore through the air like a blade. The clouds shuddered. The ground trembled. Everyone around him flinched—not from fear, but from the sheer weight of the sound.

"I know you can hear me!"

Silence.

Lucifer spread his arms, his shadows stretching out behind him like wings.

"You’ve been watching from up there, pretending you’re above it all. Pretending this is still your world."

He laughed—short, bitter, cold.

"But it’s not, is it? It’s mine now. The vampires follow me. The demons fight for me. The elves, the kitsune, the witches—they came to me, not you."

He pointed at the sanctum.

"You’re up there alone, Adam. Surrounded by toys and traitors and things that would eat you the second you showed weakness."

His voice dropped, but it carried further.

"Just like Damaris should have done."

The air changed.

The golden light above them flickered. Then it swelled, growing brighter, hotter.

Ken stepped back. "Luce..."

Lucifer didn’t move.

"You want me dead, Adam? Then stop hiding. Stop sending your puppets and your monsters and your failed experiments."

His eyes blazed crimson.

"Come down here. Face me. Let’s see who the real monster is."

The sky cracked.

Not metaphorically. The sky physically split open, a jagged line of gold and white light tearing through the clouds like a wound in reality.

From that rift, a figure descended.

Not fast. Not dramatic. Just—there.

Adam.

He looked the same as always. Tall. Impossibly beautiful. His features sharp and cold, his eyes burning with that familiar, distant light. His wings—those sharp, crystalline things that weren’t quite angelic—spread behind him as he landed on the broken ground.

He wasn’t wearing armor. Just simple white and gold robes that seemed to glow from within.

For a long moment, he just looked at Lucifer.

Then he spoke.

"You’ve grown louder."

Lucifer’s shadows pulsed. "And you’ve grown smaller."

Adam’s gaze swept over the battlefield, the bodies, the ash, the blood. His expression didn’t change.

"You killed my Wardens. My Hollow. My adversaries." A pause. "You’ve been busy."

"Someone had to do your job," Lucifer said.

Adam’s eyes narrowed—the first crack in his composure.

"You think this is about a job?"

"I think this is about you being too scared to get your hands dirty."

Adam’s wings twitched.

"I think you betrayed Damaris because you were afraid of him. Afraid of what he could do. Afraid of what he might become."

Lucifer took a step forward.

"And I think you’ve been hiding up there ever since, hoping no one would come along to remind you that you’re not a god."

Adam’s voice dropped, low and dangerous. "Careful, boy."

"Boy?" Lucifer laughed. "I’m more than you ever were. And you know it."

The light around Adam intensified. The ground beneath him began to crystallize, turning to glass.

"You’ve inherited his arrogance," Adam said quietly. "But not his wisdom."

"I don’t need wisdom," Lucifer said. "I need your head on a spike."

Adam’s lips pressed into a thin line.

"Then come and take it."

The air between them compressed. The pressure was immense enough that Ken had to take another step back. Angel’s flames sputtered. Mob’s wings folded tight.

They were about to kill each other.

And then the sky cracked again.

But this time, it wasn’t gold.

It was black.

A void opened above them—silent, empty, vast—and from it stepped a figure that made even Adam pause.

Lilith.