I'm The Devil - Chapter 295

Chapter 295: Going To The Aesir Realm

Nezha exhaled slowly, the heat of his newfound power radiating faintly around him, the crimson streaks in his golden aura still flickering like embers. He adjusted his grip on his spear, its shaft warm beneath his fingers as if alive with its own energy. His fiery eyes fixed on Lucifer, who stood calmly amidst the ruins, the faint ripple of his black coat brushing against the breeze.

The boy’s voice broke the silence, low but steady. “What happens now?” he asked, his tone tinged with a curiosity that barely masked the tension within him. “You gave me this power… but what are you going to do next?”

Lucifer, standing a few paces away, let the question hang in the air for a moment. His sharp features remained unreadable, though a faint glimmer of amusement flickered in his dark eyes. He tilted his head slightly, as though weighing his words. Slowly, he clasped his hands behind his back, his wings shifting ever so slightly—a subtle gesture of controlled anticipation.

Then, with deliberate slowness, the corners of his mouth curled upward into a smirk. It was a smile laced with mischief and a hint of challenge, one that seemed to carry the weight of countless schemes. His gaze, piercing and unwavering, locked onto Nezha’s.

“We’re going to the Aesir realm next,” Lucifer said, his voice smooth and unhurried, yet carrying a resonance that demanded attention.

Nezha’s brow furrowed at the declaration, his grip tightening on the spear. “The Aesir?” he repeated, his tone laced with skepticism. “Why? What do they have to do with this?”

Lucifer began to pace slowly, his boots crunching against the rubble with a deliberate rhythm. His movements were fluid, almost feline, as though every step was part of an intricate dance only he understood. He glanced sideways at Nezha, the smirk lingering as he spoke, his voice taking on an almost casual cadence.

Lucifer paused mid-step, his black boots scuffing against a broken slab of stone. His smirk lingered, curling his lips like a predator savoring the anticipation of the hunt. Slowly, he turned his head toward Nezha, his dark eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and cunning. His hands, still clasped behind his back, tightened slightly, his fingers twitching in a way that betrayed the energy bubbling beneath his composed exterior.

“We’re going to recruit someone,” Lucifer said, his voice smooth as velvet but carrying an edge of danger. He turned fully to face Nezha, his wings shifting subtly, their shadowy feathers stirring the air. “A god, to be precise. One who thrives on chaos and revels in mischief.”

Nezha’s golden eyes narrowed, his posture stiffening as he adjusted his stance. His spear glinted in the fractured light, its hum faint but steady, like a heartbeat resonating with his own. “A god?” he repeated, his tone skeptical, almost wary. “Why would a god join us? And who are you talking about?”

Lucifer’s smirk widened slightly, his sharp features illuminated by the faint crimson glow still emanating from Nezha’s aura. “Oh, he’ll join us,” Lucifer said with quiet confidence, his voice dripping with certainty. “He won’t be able to resist. After all, what’s more tempting to a trickster than a chance to outwit the mighty Aesir and unravel their so-called order?”

Nezha frowned, his grip on the spear tightening. His jaw clenched, and he tilted his head, his fiery gaze locked onto Lucifer. “You’re not giving me a name,” he said, his voice steady but edged with frustration. “Who is this ‘trickster’?”

Lucifer took a step closer, his movements slow and deliberate. His piercing gaze met Nezha’s, and for a moment, the tension between them was palpable. Then, as though savoring the revelation, Lucifer leaned slightly forward, his smirk softening into something more sinister.

“Loki,” he said simply, the name rolling off his tongue like a whispered secret. “The God of Lies, the Master of Mischief, the Eternal Schemer.”

Nezha’s eyes widened briefly before narrowing again, suspicion flickering across his features. “Loki?” he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. “You think he’ll help us? I’ve heard the stories. He’s… unpredictable.”

Lucifer laughed, the sound rich and layered with amusement. He turned away, his wings spreading slightly as he resumed his pacing, his boots crunching against the rubble with each deliberate step. “Unpredictable, yes,” he admitted, his voice carrying a faint trace of admiration. “But also brilliant. He thrives in chaos, and chaos is exactly what we’ll bring to the Cosmos. Besides… he wouldn’t dare to refuse me.”

Nezha’s expression darkened, his brows furrowing as he considered Lucifer’s words. “He is afraidof you?” he echoed. “What did you do to him?”

Lucifer stopped abruptly, he turned to Nezha, his smirk returning, but this time it was laced with something darker—an emotion that was hard to place, somewhere between triumph and nostalgia. “Let’s just say,” he began, his voice low and enigmatic, “Loki and I share a history. He’ll understand the value of what I’m offering.”

Nezha hesitated, his gaze flickering with uncertainty. He shifted his weight, the crimson streaks in his aura pulsing faintly as his emotions simmered beneath the surface. “And what if he doesn’t?” he asked, his tone challenging. “What if he betrays us?”

Lucifer chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that echoed through the ruined battlefield. “Oh, he will,” Lucifer said, his dark eyes gleaming. “It’s in his nature. But that’s the beauty of it, Nezha. Betrayal is part of the game. The trick is knowing when—and how—to turn it to your advantage.”

Nezha’s grip on his spear tightened, but his fiery eyes burned with resolve. He straightened, his posture firm and unyielding. “Fine,” he said, his voice steady. “If this is the path we’re taking, I’ll play along. But if he turns on us…”

Lucifer raised a hand, cutting him off with a knowing smile. “If he turns on us,” Lucifer said, his tone calm but deadly, “we’ll deal with him. Trust me, Nezha, this isn’t my first dance with the God of Mischief.”

The boy exhaled sharply, nodding once. “All right,” he said, his voice resolute. “Then let’s find him.”

Lucifer’s smile widened, and his wings unfurled with a flourish. “That’s the spirit,” he said, his voice carrying a note of approval. With a graceful leap, he rose into the air, his dark form cutting through the dim light like a shadow given life. He hovered above Nezha, his black coat billowing around him, and extended a hand downward.

“Come, Nezha,” he said, his voice commanding yet strangely inviting. “Let’s see if Loki’s ready to join the fun.”

Nezha hesitated only for a moment before planting his spear against the ground and launching himself upward, his fiery aura trailing behind him like a comet. He grasped Lucifer’s hand, and together they soared into the unknown, their contrasting energies—a dark, deliberate calm and a blazing, untamed fire—melding into a force that promised to change the fate of realms.