I'm The Devil - Chapter 303

Chapter 303: The Descent of Hell
The skies of the divine realms split open.

Across the Gods’ Plane and the Celestial Myriad, vast cracks of crimson and black tore through reality, bleeding like open wounds in the sky. The air itself grew heavy with an ancient, suffocating pressure.

From these rifts, hellish storms raged—black lightning flashing, scarlet mist seeping through, and the echo of twisted voices whispering from the abyss.

Those who had set foot in Hell before knew this aura too well. It was unmistakable. It was a declaration.

Someone had just opened the gates.

—

From the Devil’s Peak, the highest point of the Pangu Realm, Nezha stood with his arms folded, his sharp gaze locked on the sky. His golden rings hummed with energy, reacting to the unnatural presence spilling through the heavens.

“I think he’s begun,” Nezha muttered, eyes narrowing.

Beside him, Lucifer Morningstar stood unfazed, gazing at the chaos above with an easy smirk. His black coat fluttered in the wind, his crimson eyes reflecting the abyssal rifts above.

“Yeah,” Lucifer said, his voice dripping with amusement. “My dear brother is finally making his move.”

Sun Wukong rested Ruyi Jingu Bang against his shoulder, one brow raised. “And you’re just standing here? Shouldn’t you be, I dunno, stopping this?”

Lucifer let out a quiet chuckle. “Why would I stop it?”

Loki, who had been leaning lazily on his staff, straightened slightly, eyeing Lucifer with suspicion. “You sound almost too amused by this.”

Nezha turned to Lucifer, his expression serious. “What are you playing at, Morningstar?”

Lucifer exhaled dramatically, then turned to them with an easy smirk. “You’re all looking at this the wrong way.”

He raised a hand, gesturing to the rifts in the sky.

“He’s not unleashing Hell onto the realms,” Lucifer said, his voice smooth as ever. “He’s sending my army back to me.”

A beat of silence.

Then—

“Wait, what?” Wukong blinked.

Loki’s smirk faltered slightly. “…Explain.”

Lucifer sighed, stretching his arms lazily. “It seems my dear brother has forgotten one crucial thing,” he said, tilting his head, his expression unreadable.

He turned back to the sky, watching as legions of demons—some monstrous, some eerily human—began pouring out of the rifts. The divine realms braced themselves for war.

But Lucifer?

He just smiled.

“I’m still King of Hell.”

He flicked his fingers.

And in an instant—

Every demon, beast, and fallen soul emerging from Hell froze.

Their eyes snapped open, glowing with an eerie, infernal light. Their bodies tensed, as if suddenly caught in invisible chains.

Then—one by one—they turned.

Not towards the realms they were supposed to invade.

But towards Lucifer.

—

A heavy silence fell over the Pangu Realm.

Nezha, Wukong, and Loki all exchanged glances.

“…Okay,” Wukong muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s actually kinda badass.”

Loki exhaled through his nose, smirking again. “Of course. You would never let someone else play king of your domain, would you?”

Lucifer turned to them, that same devilish grin still on his lips. “Exactly.”

He stepped forward, raising one hand towards the sky. The demons trembled, their once chaotic roars turning into eerie silence.

And then, with a single command—

“Kneel.”

The legions of Hell obeyed.

Thousands—millions—of infernal beings dropped to their knees, their heads bowed in absolute submission.

Lucifer let his fingers rest against his chin, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “There we go. Much better.”

Nezha crossed his arms, watching as the once-rampaging army of Hell had been tamed in mere seconds.

“…So what now?” he asked.

Lucifer chuckled. “Now? Now we remind my dear brother why I was the first to fall.”

The wind howled around them.

The war hadn’t even begun.

But already, Lucifer had taken back Hell.

Hell’s Empty Throne

Hell was silent.

No screams. No wails. No tortured souls clawing at the abyss. Just emptiness.

Satanael sat on a massive throne of blackened bone and jagged steel, his massive form radiating power. His skin was now darker, his crimson tattoos pulsing like living veins, his body larger than before. The very air around him trembled under the weight of his transformation.

But something was wrong.

By now, the souls of the fallen—both mortal and divine—should have been flooding Hell. His army should have been returning in victory.

Instead—nothing.

His golden eyes narrowed. His clawed fingers gripped the armrest of the throne as frustration boiled in his chest.

“What the hell is going on…?” he muttered.

And then—

A presence.

Reality shivered, and in an instant, a figure materialized before him.

Moronuel.

Tall, clad in flowing dark robes that shimmered like the void, his silver eyes cold and unreadable. His jet-black wings folded neatly behind him as he gazed up at Satanael, his expression unreadable—but there was something sharp in his stare.

The silence between them was heavy.

Then—

“I see you’re very adamant about betraying Lucifer.”

His voice was calm, but laced with quiet disapproval.

Satanael’s frown deepened as he slowly stood. His massive frame towered over Moronuel, his aura crackling like a dying star.

“One of us was bound to do it someday,” he rumbled. His voice was lower now, deeper—like thunder rolling through a dying world. “And I happen to be the one.”

Moronuel simply shook his head. “You’ve gone mad.”

Satanael’s expression darkened. “Spare me the lecture, Moronuel.”

Moronuel exhaled, his silver gaze sharp. “Tell me something, then.”

He lifted a single hand and snapped his fingers.

A portal of swirling darkness opened beside him.

And through it—

Hell itself was revealed.

But not as it should have been.

Instead of a realm filled with suffering and chaos, there was nothing.

No legions. No war cries. No rampaging demons.

Just the endless abyss—empty.

Satanael’s eyes widened. His fingers twitched.

Moronuel tilted his head slightly, his voice eerily calm.

“If you’re going to face Lucifer…”

The swirling darkness behind him pulsed—revealing the legions of Hell, kneeling before the true King of Hell. Lucifer stood at their head, his wings spread wide, his smirk unmistakable.

Moronuel’s voice was cold.

“…Where’s your army?”

Satanael clenched his jaw, his mind racing.

The demons he had unleashed…

They were already under Lucifer.

A heavy silence filled the throne room.

Satanael gritted his teeth. A flicker of something dangerous passed through his eyes.

Moronuel sighed, lowering his hand as the vision faded. “You never had a chance, Satanael.”

Satanael’s claws dug into the armrest of his throne, the stone cracking beneath his grip. “Tch.”

He wasn’t done yet.

Not even close.

The war was just beginning.