#mediapple

At that sight, that single act of Lilith against Alastor, the pain in Lucifer's heart flared up, and his voice grew harsher. "Lilith, please, stop. You can't control Roo!"

The Queen of Sin barely lifted her head in his direction, her gaze empty, indifferent to his pleading. "Control him? Roo's already awake, there's nothing left to stop." Her elegant, voluptuous form emerged from behind the chair, towering over Alastor's seated figure. He seemed to have slipped back into a trance, his usual smile almost gone. "Maybe..." Lucifer began, letting go of his demonic form to appear less threatening. His hair and clothes deflated, draping over his thin, small frame, and his eyes returned to their golden hue, revealing a worried expression that contrasted with the aggression from moments before. He took a tense step forward, reaching out his dark hands toward Lilith, gazing up at her with furrowed brows and arched eyebrows. "...maybe Alastor can stop him. You need to give him back his soul, break the pact that binds you to him. It's the only hope that—" "Alastor can stop him?!" the woman interrupted sharply, her icy eyes widening. "How could he? He's a puppet, barely able to manage the little power he has left."

"I... I don't know," Lucifer swallowed a lump in his throat, forcing a nervous smile in an awkward attempt to seem agreeable. "But there's something, someone inside him who knew this would happen, and maybe... maybe he can stop Roo."

"Ah! Really?" she exclaimed with a touch of sarcasm, yanking the chain abruptly. The metallic clink forced a startled Alastor to his feet. The movement was so sudden that the Half-Deer slammed into the chair before stumbling back against her chest—she stood slightly taller than him.

"...!" Lucifer flinched, his body stiffening as if he were about to lunge toward them, but he remained frozen in place. His eyes widened, full of terror. His hands hovered in midair, as pale lights began to flicker behind him: the portals bringing Heaven's angels. He couldn't reason with her. In that moment, it felt as though his wife's heart had been encased in a thick layer of stone. Had it always been this way? Cold, detached, devoid of mercy... soulless?

"Lilith... why are you doing this? To him... to me?!" he burst out, his voice rising as his sharp jaws ground together. But more than anger, there was a deep desperation in his expression. "Why... why do you hate me so much?!"

He dropped his hands to his sides, clenching them into fists, crackling with golden magic like electric sparks. His heart felt like it was burning and freezing at the same time. He couldn't recall ever feeling this much emotional destruction before, not even during his fall from Heaven. No, definitely not. She had been by his side then. And now, she was his worst enemy. Worse than Roo himself, because she was fully aware of what she was doing—she could choose, and she was choosing bitterness, vengeance, and destruction.

"Mmh, hate you...?" Lilith's simple question froze him in place. She was amused, her lips curving into a slight smile, her eyes filled with innocent, curious surprise, as though the angel had just asked her something absurd. "...Hate? Too noble for someone like you... for a little..." she hissed the last word with venomous disdain, "...insignificant angel, crushed by his own choices."

"..." Lucifer was left speechless, incredulous.

"...Look at you," she sneered, lifting her chin to force him to meet her eyes. Her icy gaze looked down from above his small Seraphic form. "A rebellious angel, full of hopes that first led the world, then all of creation, to ruin. Condemned to manage souls who abused the free will you introduced them to. And then... who fell in love with one of the worst souls, one that knowingly used that freedom to cause pain and death..."

Her voice dripped with venom as she continued, her left gloved hand—while her right still held the chain near Alastor's animal ears—sliding down his chest, unbuttoning his jacket slowly, slipping between the suspenders that held up his red shirt, and undoing the buttons with ease. Lucifer couldn't look away from the scene, frozen just a few feet in front of them, with Alastor facing him and Lilith towering behind, clutching and touching him with lascivious intent.

"...And now you want to save him, but you're not capable," Lilith continued, running her tongue over her lips. "You left him for days under the hands of a mere Overlord, subjected to his abuses... and you think you can save him from me?" She arched her eyebrows in amusement. After unbuttoning a few buttons, her fingers trailed through the reddish fur covering Alastor's bare chest, illuminated by the broken voodoo symbols floating in the air, emerging from his scarred wounds. "You couldn't protect your kingdom, your souls. You never saw them as yours, did you? What do you even understand about the human soul?" Lilith's words hissed like poisoned daggers. "You... creature of light. Where's your light, Lucifer? Where's your love for others, the one that should give you the courage to save them? To stand up, to rebel against the rules of beings who don't even know if they're right or wrong?"

It was at that very moment, when the Queen's claws scraped across a small symbol shaped like crossed arrows, that Alastor tensed, clenching his claws into fists at his sides.

The shadow of the Red Demon stretched far beyond him, spilling past Lucifer's feet and rising behind him, cast high against the windows of the Radio Tower. The shadow, ignoring its master's movements, grew taller than the Seraph, entirely black. It snarled silently at the woman, visibly enraged, its jaws and eyes glowing a toxic, acid green.

Meanwhile, down in Hell, especially at the Hazbin Hotel, the annoying music had finally stopped, but the stormy chaos that had taken over everything was far from over. Visibility was almost nonexistent, and the abyssal winds made it nearly impossible for the exorcist angels to fly, as they fought an exhausting battle against Roo's tentacles and creatures.

In addition to the red and black tendrils rising from the cracks in the ground, millions of tiny creatures—sharp-eyed monsters—threw themselves at anything in sight, adding to the confusion of the battle.

Archangel Michael, wielding his Flaming Sword, showed an agility and ferocity befitting his name as he tore through the creatures targeting him. But unlike him, the exorcists fell by the dozen.

Slicing through a massive tentacle, Michael hovered in the air, his great celestial wings flapping. He was tired, and though he did everything he could to maintain composure, he had lost some of it. He was not just a commander but the General of the Heavenly Legions, and he couldn't show weakness in front of the other angels, let alone the demons. Yet what he saw burned through his soul with a terror he had never known in all his existence.

The exorcists kept falling, and with every angel who died, it felt like a piece of his soul was being ripped away. He had never seen Hell in this state before—was this the apocalypse he was supposed to face? Everything looked so different from the prophecies, nothing like what he had prepared for. It was all so absurd, and even he didn't know what to call it. How could he not have been warned about this?

Clad in an elegant suit with blue and gold accents, wrapped in silver armor that protected his chest, shoulders, and legs, Michael radiated his own light, a beacon in the darkness. His medium-length blonde hair whipped in the abyssal wind, and his halo, blazing like a crown above his head, made him impossible to miss.

Charlie spotted him as she ventured into the courtyard, her face wide-eyed, staring at the sky. Just then, another exorcist crashed violently to the ground, dead, far too close to her for comfort, causing her to jump.

"Eehk!"

"Charlie! Get out of there, stay close to the hotel!" Vaggie shouted imperatively from the hotel entrance, gripping her spear.

"That's Michael, Vaggie! I know it, I've seen illustrations in Mom's books! They've come to help us!" Charlie squealed with a hopeful smile.

"Like hell they have!" Vaggie thundered, making the princess flinch. "They're here to wipe us all out! If we survive, they'll finish us off!"

"Adam..! Adam!" Lute was kneeling beside Adam, who was still chained and collapsed on the hotel's front steps, having dragged himself out of the doorway. He was unconscious now that the song had ended. She shook him with her good hand, trying to wake him, but the demon didn't stir. She bent down, pressing her ear to his chest: he was still breathing, and his heart was beating.

"At least he's alive."

Vaggie shot her a fierce glare and yelled, "Charlie! Move! We've got to get the other three out of the basement!"

Charlie nodded and started running toward the hotel, narrowly avoiding the upper half of an exorcist who had been sliced in two by one of Roo's tentacles.

"Oh, shit! They're killing everyone, Vag—" she started to growl as she ran for the entrance, but suddenly found herself suspended in the air. A massive tentacle had emerged from a crack in the ground and grabbed her by the waist. Charlie let out a scream, immediately shifting into her demon form—or at least, as far as she could go—her long hair flaring between her horns as Vaggie screamed in despair, "CHARLIE!"

Vaggie's scream echoed through the storm, slicing through the abyssal wind until it reached Michael, who was still hovering in the air, panting, struggling to catch his breath. The archangel lowered his bright blue eyes toward the Hazbin Hotel's courtyard, just as Adam twitched slightly. The First Man's eyes snapped open, staring at the steps of the building, still prone.

Vaggie's scream pierced the air and echoed through the infernal chaos, cutting through the interior of the Radio Tower like a blade. It struck Lucifer's mind like a lightning bolt, filling him with utter despair. Did Lilith hear it? As the sounds of battle seeped through the walls, like an omen, the Queen showed no signs of wavering. Her gloved fingers continued pressing against Alastor's chest, causing him to tremble in pain.

The sinner had hunched over slightly and was drooling and swelling again, still bound by those stitches that, by now, were clearly holding something back, something that was desperate to break free. His shadow was still there, thick with broken Voodoo symbols, looming menacingly over the glass behind Lucifer, but unable to do anything beyond threatening with its jagged, acid-green eyes.

"Lilith! That's enough! Stop Roo, now!" the Seraphim suddenly thundered at his wife.

The First Woman responded by darkening her gaze and tightening her grip around the violet chain. Then, with a violent yank, she snapped the collar around Alastor's neck, breaking it with a clean crack.

Lucifer's heart skipped a beat. The loud "crack" made his skin crawl; his red pupils shrank into tiny pinpricks, reflecting the Half-Deer's image as he spewed blood from his jaws, his neck twisted in an unnatural position.

...

"Where is Lucifer?! Why isn't he here?!" Lute roared, wielding her angelic sword in the direction of a massive tentacle writhing in the air. Charlie writhed within its grasp, while Vaggie, her face twisted in fear, desperately searched for a weak spot. Neither noticed Adam's faint groan, still immobilized nearby.

The First Man felt a searing pain in his chest and suddenly retched, expelling a thick, black mass from his throat with a "Bluargh!" Around him, chaos reigned. Visibility was minimal, but above all, the chaos was in his head. His vision was blurry, and he couldn't focus; his soul ached, as did his bones, and he was completely smeared in pitch, red blood, and... gold? Whose blood was that?

Somehow, he managed to place his knees on the ground, his legs finally breaking free from the chains cutting into his flesh. He crawled upward, lifting his head, only to see scattered pieces of exorcists strewn across the courtyard. ... He felt a chill run through him.

"Lucifer's in the Radio Tower, talking to Lilith!" Vaggie's voice forced Adam to lift his head further, terror rising in his chest. Just a few meters from him stood Lute, her back to him, and in the air, a frantic Vaggie, trying to strike the enormous tentacle. Charlie struggled too, stabbing her trident into the creature, though it had no effect.

"Lilith created all of this! She's the one who awakened this monster! She's the only one who can stop it, but she's not thinking straight! She's lost her mind! Why isn't she listening?!" Vaggie's voice grew even more desperate.

At those words, Adam's fear transformed into a sudden surge of rage. His eyes blackened, and his pupils turned red as he saw a bolt of light streak down from the sky. Michael, like a golden lightning bolt, flew beneath Charlie, brandishing his Flaming Sword, and sliced the tentacle clean in half.

The upper portion of the dark tendril crashed to the ground with a heavy thud, bringing the Princess down with it.

Adam still couldn't focus properly or move, growling as he clawed at the ground, his chains clanking loudly. His mind was a storm of thoughts, as chaotic as the tempest raging around him. Lilith? Lilith was in the Radio Tower? Was she the one who had driven everyone mad? Oh, of course—he remembered that disgusting feeling, created without a doubt by a disgusting woman. She had lied to him, made him believe that awakening Roo would allow him to save Eve, and now here they were, killing each other, watching even his third world of peace collapse.

Once Eden. Then Heaven. And now... Hell?

And Lucifer? Was he still in on this, planning to tear everything down alongside her?

At that moment, Adam finally caught sight of Michael's feet touching down on the courtyard pavement, and he heard Lute's voice.

"Michael..."

"Michael!" Her voice grew increasingly desperate as she rushed toward the Archangel.

"Michael, watch out!"

At the exact moment Alastor's body hit the floor with a thud, Lucifer snarled, exploding with inhuman speed toward Lilith. The room filled with eerie spectral eyes whirling madly alongside Voodoo symbols, while the angel, now fully in his demonic form, slammed his wife against one of the windows, shattering the glass into a thousand fragments.

"WHAT... what have you done, Lilith! You... you've gone mad! You've lost your mind!" Lucifer growled, spitting fire, his face inches from Lilith's, whose eyes were now wide with disbelief. "If you can control Roo, stop him! You have to stop him, now!"

Some shards from the window fell into the courtyard, just as Adam, lifting his head once more, saw a massive tendril pierce through Michael's shoulder.

Adam watched as Michael fell, impaled by the tentacle, and something inside him snapped. It wasn't just rage. It was a primordial fury, a wrath buried deep in his soul since his rebirth as a demon. In that moment, man became beast. The chains shattered like glass under the force of his anger. As the metal clattered to the ground and another gigantic tentacle wrapped perilously around the Hotel's structure, the First Man's leathery wings exploded from his back, propelling him forward. He dove to snatch an Angelic Sword from the ground and shot up like lightning toward the Radio Tower.

As Lucifer gripped his wife at the ledge, another violent force was building. From the courtyard, Adam's fury swelled like a storm. The two, bound by the fate of creation, were both blinded by rage—one against his wife, the other against destiny itself. The trembling of the Hotel resonated all the way to the Radio Tower, but Lucifer didn't care; his horns were out, his eyes ablaze with fury, and his wings twisted within the cramped room. But all he could see was Lilith's madness.

"You don't care about anyone anymore, not even Charlie?! You're going to get her killed too!" he shouted at her.

Lilith froze. Pure terror flashed across her face like an electric shock. The First Woman's eyes darted toward the courtyard below, searching for someone, just as the snarling figure of Adam leaped into the air behind her, wielding the angelic sword with both hands.

Adam's wings spread wide behind him, his body taut with momentum. The sword cut through the air, and for a moment, time seemed to stop. Lucifer heard the blade's hiss as it barely grazed his face, a blink of an eye before Lilith's head was severed from her body. The Seraph found himself staring, red-eyed and pupil-less, at the demon's figure beyond his wife's decapitated form.

...

The angel's eyes gradually widened, his mouth hanging open in shock. Then the blood, hot and thick, began to spurt, splashing across his face. Inside him, everything stopped: time, sound, even the beating of his heart. The sensation was indescribable—everything felt muffled, distant, as though his mind had detached from his body, dissociating from the reality around him.

Yet, in truth, everything continued to unfold. The Wedding Band encircling the last finger of his left hand glowed with a faint white light, transforming momentarily into the chain of a pact. Then, it snapped, disintegrating into nothingness.

The same happened around Alastor's neck, where the violet collar glowed dimly before shattering and disappearing. The shadow of the Half-Deer, projected on the wall, retracted toward his limp body, melting like dark liquid, entirely absorbed by the inert figure.

When the last drop was absorbed, Alastor convulsed. His neck twisted unnaturally, emitting eerie bone-cracking sounds, regenerating at a speed a thousand times faster than normal, and he awoke. Placing both claws on the floor, he stood up. The abyssal wind continued to blow beneath the tails of his coat, which he carefully buttoned up along with his shirt.

Then, he extended his right arm, opening his hand wide, and with crackling bursts of shadow, his staff appeared. The top was shaped like a microphone encased in a shell-like protection.

Gripping the staff tightly, he twirled it around and turned fully toward the scene that had just unfolded behind him. His eyes gleamed in two different shades of green, the X glowing acid-bright on his forehead, the enormous symbol of Kalfu swirling behind him like a frame among the others, all linking back together. With a wide, yellowed grin etched on his face, he spoke in a deep, masculine voice that wasn't his own:

"Oh, so here I am. Is this where the apocalypse begins...?"

"Oh, Voxy~" he replied mockingly. "A truce? After everything you did to me? Seriously?" The Deer Demon tapped his shoe on the floor, slowly rising to his feet. Every movement was calculated, almost predatory.

Alastor's rise felt like a weight bearing down on the other Sinner, who withdrew his head into his shoulders, standing frozen in the middle of the circular room. The visibility was minimal, dominated by reds and blacks interrupted by green glimmers; the glitchy blue light of his screen shone like a small, out-of-place beacon. The presence of Alastor was oppressive—overwhelming—but it also stirred something in Vox. He'd never felt his desire for him this vividly. Yes, he'd always wanted him, but now... it was unbearable. He was terrified, yet he needed Alastor to come closer. The Radio Demon was doing just that, moving slowly, hands clasped behind his back and his cane parallel to the floor.

"Heh... yeah, maybe it's a crazy request," Vox replied without looking at him, eyes fixed downward. "But what happened out there... If we want to survive, we have to join forces. I can help with your power; I have the resources. We can't afford to be enemies anymore. Just look at what we created together... the Apocalypse." He gave a tense smile, not even believing his own words.

"AHAHAH~" Alastor threw his head back, his laughter echoing through the room. He stepped closer to Vox, closing the distance even further. "You drugged me... hypnotized me. And now you come here, wounded and desperate, begging for my help?" he hissed, his radio-effected voice dense with contempt.

Vox, visibly nervous, took a step back but couldn't hide his mounting frustration.

"I'm not here begging. I don't have a choice. The apocalypse that just passed... it affects you, too. It's about your soul... the pact with Lilith," he said, raising his voice slightly and meeting Alastor's gaze head-on. "We can't afford to fight each other when everything has fallen apart."

"Mmh..." Alastor hummed, sounding bored as he unclasped his hands from behind his back. "I have my soul again, my power, and... Hell is no longer my concern," he admitted.

At those words, Vox stiffened, a frown forming. "You have your soul again? Then that means... and Lilith?!" His eyes widened with a strange awareness.

"Oooh yes!" the Deer Demon exclaimed loudly. He raised both arms in the air, swinging his cane with a gesture of joy. "It's exactly what you're thinking, my dear Flat Face. So... relax~" he hummed musically, "Lilith won't be coming back to tear you to shreds." His smile stretched, his tone turning sly. "We personally watched her head come clean off. Slice!" he cheered with enthusiasm, but now—alongside his voice—a deeper, ancient one joined in. "...her neck began to spurt blood, painting Lucifer like a marvelous flower!" The voices spoke in unison under Vox's stunned stare. "Oh, Voxy..." Alastor's radio-tinged voice returned, pinning his gaze onto the terrified Sinner's eyes. "...you should have seen Lucifer's face. He'll never recover from the trauma." Amused.

The Media Demon stood wide-eyed, shocked. He could barely move. He should have felt great relief at these revelations, but something continued gnawing at his insides. "So..." He paused, trying to shake off the dryness in his mouth. "...so you have your power back?" Sweat began to flicker across his screen. "Better, right? We're free to create whatever we desire, to control every single corner of Hell."

The Deer Demon didn't respond immediately, taking his time, fully aware he had total control of the conversation. He looked him over from head to toe, relishing seeing him like this: fragile, without a mask, stripped of all control. It must have taken Vox tremendous effort to come here and request an alliance. He must be truly desperate. He probably thought he'd find Alastor still weakened, but he'd guessed wrong: he was more than he could ever imagine. It was the perfect moment to toy with him.

"You seem tense, Voxy. Why don't you take a seat?" he said, snapping the fingers of his left hand.

Behind the TV Demon appeared a large armchair, shrouded in a swirl of green sorcery. Vox barely had time to notice it before a pair of tentacles wrapped around his body, pulling him down into it. He sat with a growl, his antennae electrified on the small black cylinder. He swallowed dryly, watching the tentacles retract as the tension grew, numbing his muscles.

"Heh-heh... yeah, this is better," he chuckled awkwardly, visibly uncomfortable, in a clumsy attempt to ease the situation. He knew he looked more ridiculous than sincere.

His expression turned to surprise when he caught Alastor's shoes before him. His gaze traveled up, finding the Deer Demon standing between his parted knees. In that position, the red Sinner towered over him, and his smile weighed like a boulder on his shoulders. Vox flushed, feeling a powerful heat in his chest. Then, realizing it, he quickly shook his head, trying to regain his composure, and gritted his teeth. He gripped the armrests tightly, lowering his gaze once more.

"We were..." he began, uncertain. "...we were so close. I'd never had a friend like you... someone I could trust completely." As he spoke, his voice grew less shaky but also quieter, as if each word carried a melancholy nostalgia. "The media world is full of sharks, you know... Everyone stays close for interests, for business, but you..." He paused. "You stayed close to me because you wanted to." he whispered hoarsely, lifting a sad, curious gaze to Alastor. "Is that true?"

The Deer Demon's smile widened, revealing his yellowed teeth. "It is." he admitted.

Vox sank into melancholy.

Alastor continued, "You were a frightened demon, but I knew you could become much more, and you did, Vox." The seated Sinner's name sounded distorted. Vox let out another nervous chuckle. "Heh... yeah." "I... I didn't want it to end. I wanted it to continue forever, to grow, even more than we were... together, as allies, as..." He stopped, lips trembling.

Alastor watched him with vivid curiosity, then took another step forward, his pants brushing the edge of the armchair, wedging himself between the other's legs.

Vox tensed suddenly, feeling overwhelmed by the closeness. He pressed his shoulders against the backrest, his uncertain eye fixed on Alastor's face. His scent made Vox's head spin: ancient, like an old suit locked in a wardrobe for a century, mixed with the smell of earth and plants, of a forest, and gunpowder.

"...lovers," he finally concluded.

…

In the meantime, Lucifer had more or less managed to pull himself together.

He'd taken a couple of showers—one just wasn't enough—and poured all his energy into recovering from the physical aches that had left him weakened. Pleasant aches, he had to admit. It was the first time Alastor had thrown himself at him like that—aside from the incident at VoxTek, where Alastor hadn't been himself. But most of all... had he said "I love you"? Seriously? He'd told Lucifer he loved him... just as he did. Now, Lucifer had all the time in the world to process that response.

As he donned his hat, standing motionless in front of the mirror that reflected the room still in shambles from the previous night, he felt his chest tighten. An anxious sensation gripped him. Was this a good feeling? Wasn't he in love? So why did he feel so much anxiety? He clutched his vest with his claws, clenching his teeth. No, it wasn't a good feeling. He was certainly in love, yes, but their bond was anything but healthy. He felt possessiveness, desire, fear of losing him or being destroyed by him, by whatever bound them together. Was this his new hell? The chains of that demon, now a true demigod with a power that eclipsed his own, held nothing healthy. Alastor was not sane. He was not good. But... he was just. After all, justice is neither good nor evil; it sits perfectly in the center. There can be justice by law and justice... by chaos. Even chaos has its own rules.

"Ugh, enough thinking!" Lucifer burst out, clutching his hat. In that moment, he felt an overwhelming urge to lock himself in a room with Alastor and never leave, to shut out the whole world as if it didn't exist. He could do it. But first, he had to take care of unfinished business. He had to speak with Charlie.

He started down the hallway, breathing in the less stifling air of the open corridor. The hotel looked different—now he could clearly see it. His bond with the Radio Demon told him Alastor was still somewhere in the building, and that reassured him. He would reach him once he'd taken care of this... issue. What kind of issue?

Without realizing it, he found himself at the door of Charlie and Vaggie's room. A small sign with a heart—"C&V"—hung from one of the door handles. The angel frowned with sadness; Charlie shouldn't have to pay for any kind of hell. Why Regina? This was all his fault. Lilith was dead. The thought resurfaced, stabbing him like a knife.

He knocked a couple of times. "Charlie... sweetheart?" he called timidly.

Footsteps sounded frantically inside, and then the door flew open, revealing Charlie's disheveled and desperate figure. She looked at her father and, with a cry of "Dad!" threw herself into a crushing hug.

The Seraph stood frozen, tightly squeezed by his daughter, his neck practically retracting into his shoulders as he offered a tense smile. "H-hey, Chachar!"

"Oh, Dad, you're okay! At least you're okay!" Charlie continued to hug him with such force that, in normal circumstances, he could easily have withstood it. But now he was all bruised. Pain shot through him, and he gently placed his hands on her shoulders to ease her back a bit.

"Yes, of course, I'm fine. Alastor took care of me."

Charlie, her eyes swollen with tears, looked at him with fear. "Alastor..." she repeated. "Where is he?" She scanned the hallway nervously, as if looking for something dangerous.

"He said he needed to take care of an issue and would join us later, don't worry. I think he's concerned for you too... in his own way, hehe." Nervous chuckle. "Come on, let's go in... sit down, you're still shaken up." He guided her back into the room and shut the door behind them.

The room looked as it always had; nothing inside had changed since the hotel's previous reconstruction. Maybe Alastor had left the rooms as the occupants wanted, to make them feel comfortable. Yes... now Lucifer could say he understood him. The Radio Demon was incapable of expressing his emotions because he saw them as weaknesses. And indeed, they were, especially in a place like Hell. But one only needed to notice those small details to understand the affection he held for each member of the hotel. Probably even Husk. After all, wasn't this place Purgatory? Even Husk had been granted a chance for redemption.

Charlie sat on the edge of the bed, wrapping an arm around herself. She wore only her white shirt and pants; her hair was loose and messy, with no style, as if she'd been tossing and turning somewhere. Her gaze was rimmed with dark circles and puffiness. Who knew how much she'd cried, how badly she'd slept.

Lucifer looked at her, his heart aching, and calmly approached, removing his hat and placing it on the nightstand next to the bed. "...." He had no words. He should've thought beforehand about what to say. What was he supposed to tell her now? Hi Charlie, how are you? Oh, I know your mother was decapitated; all that blood you saw on me was hers. I've already recovered because I knew what a bitch she was, because I have Alastor by my side, and now I can selfishly be with him without any issues, but you... you never knew the truth because I never told you as I should have. For you, it's just pain.

"So... uh..." Lucifer began with total nonchalance, looking around with his hands on his hips. "Queen of Hell, huh...?"

"...." ... "What a load of nonsense!" Charlie burst out, running her hands through her tangled hair. Vaggie had already hinted at some of it. "You're the King of Hell, with or without Mom!"

Lucifer's eyebrows arched with sadness. "Oh, Charlie... wouldn't it be better this way? You wanted Hell to be a better place. You've seen how I didn't manage it over these thousands of years..." He took a step forward, moving closer to her.

The girl raised her tear-filled eyes. "Yes, but... can't we manage it together?"

"...." At that question, Lucifer remained silent, but the look he gave her spoke for him.

"...." ... "You want to stay here with Alastor...?"

"Yes... I mean, that's part of it... but isn't Purgatory the next step after Hell? Should I go back?"

"So you're saying I deserve to be in Hell?" she snapped.

"Oh no, Charlie!" Lucifer threw himself onto her, literally collapsing to his knees between her legs and resting his hands on her shoulders. He sought her tear-streaked, reddened face with his own, filled with sorrow. He was as desperate as she was, but mostly for her state. "You can't think that way. You're the only one who can make Hell a better place... thanks to you, there will be no more horrible places, no more abyss. Only phases of transition for souls that will choose whether to redeem themselves or stay in that place."

She looked at him, uncertain, her hands once again hiding her face. She began to sob. "But it's all so crazy. Why did Mom have to die? Why is everything destroyed?"

"We'll rebuild it, together. This isn't the first time we've done it. We'll bring order to this chaos... Charlie, please, look at me!" Trembling lips and hands on his knees, Lucifer lifted his face, trying to catch his daughter's bowed head.

She hesitated but eventually peered out through her fingers.

"..." At that look, the angel melted, straightening his back and extending his arms to pull her into a warm embrace. This time it was a genuine embrace, filled with all the need for connection and comfort that moved both their souls. The need to soothe the solitude that, in some way, they both still carried within. Like a hole, a chasm that consumed them.

An embrace in the quiet semi-darkness of the room, while somewhere else, something very dangerous was unfolding.

In Kalfu's throne room, time hadn't stopped. But for Vox, it felt like it had started to slow down. Alastor had gotten too close, standing right in front of him, so near that he could hear the sizzling sound of his breath. The Radio Demon had made his cane disappear and seemed to be there for him, waiting for something.

"...do you remember," Vox resumed, forcing a tense, melancholy smile, "...when Mimzy burst into Hell's Jazz, chased by a pack of Hounds, interrupting your tap dance, and you got pissed off like a beast?" He kept his gaze fixed upward, toward Alastor's eyes, which observed him with detached curiosity. "...you were so drunk that you devoured everyone, and I had to carry you home. Ha-ha," he finished, his heart pounding. Anxiety was gnawing at his insides.

But Alastor said, "Oh yes. How could I forget? Mimzy is always so opportunistic." He chuckled.

Vox chuckled too, relaxing as he widened his smile, easing the tension in his brow. Alastor's laugh reassured him. He was magnificent. So inscrutable and, at the same time, vibrant. Filled with the duality of an old human and a monster.

Vox tapped his blue claws nervously on the armrest of the chair. The urge to touch Alastor was becoming overwhelming. He was so close. Alastor had come closer. He had saved him from the apocalypse. He was angry, yes—Vox had hypnotized and drugged him—but maybe, just maybe, he'd liked it. Impossible. He was toying with him, just as he always had.

"And do you remember..." Alastor resumed unexpectedly, "...when, during one of your first podcasts, that employee of yours barged in, protesting against the harsh working conditions you forced on him...?"

Vox flinched. "Oh right, damn it! Roger or maybe Rosier, what was his name? That damn unionist...to hell with him!" He exclaimed, filling with enthusiasm, and a bit instinctively, a bit deliberately, placed a hand on Alastor's side.

He wrapped his claws around the other Sinner's bony waist in a fluid motion that met no resistance—Alastor didn't move away. Sure, Vox felt his muscles contract, tense up, but the red demon leaned his hips even closer to his face. ...

He lowered the corners of his mouth, almost grazing the bottom edge of his screen, while still watching him from his seated position. The Half-Stag was still staring at him curiously, with that inscrutable smile of his.

Anxiety clawed its way back into the TV Demon's chest, but with it, a strange hope as well. So he really was interested? Then...

"Alastor..." He pronounced his name, adopting a serious, somber tone. ... "I...I'm sorry." He admitted, clutching his claws into the fabric of his jacket. "You...you know why I did it. You know it was because..." He faltered, lifting his other hand to find Alastor's ribcage.

The Radio Demon was especially thin and bony. They were nearly the same height, but Alastor's frame was slimmer than his own. Vox wanted to hold him, to feel him writhe in pleasure and pain under his fingers. Images of that moment on the table, and then on the bed in his apartment, returned to the TV Demon's mind. He had never imagined he'd have Alastor in that way, beneath him. His hands slid under the fabric of his jacket, touching the thinner material of the red shirt tucked neatly into his dark pants. With each movement of his fingers, the other sinner seemed to grow warmer.

"...because," he repeated. Alastor didn't pull away. He stayed still, and Vox lowered his gaze to his hips, averting it from his face. "...because I'm in love with you," he hissed between clenched jaws.

The shark demon's fingers trembled slightly as they neared Alastor's belt. His breathing grew heavy, and his heartbeat pounded in his ears. He could smell the acrid scent of gunpowder and dry leaves emanating from the red demon, so close, motionless in front of him, like a predator watching without moving.

"I...I didn't want things to end this way...eight years ago. I just wanted...I wanted you to stay with me. I know I was selfish... I won't force you to embrace all my modernity again, you saw, right...? I even prepared a setup just for you..."

His hands slid hesitantly along the fabric of the pants, reaching the buckle. He paused, hesitating, as if about to cross a boundary. Then, finally, his fingers began to fiddle with the belt buckle.

"And even the last time...I protected you. I kept you with me...I did it all...for this burning desire..." ... "And we can start over...from now. I can give you what you desire, you know that..."

Vox swallowed, feeling a spark of hope reignite within him. He lifted his head from the backrest, moistening his jaws with his tongue. The Radio Demon didn't step back, didn't resist. Heart pounding wildly, Vox moved closer, starting to unfasten the belt. His excitement began to press under the fabric of his pants, increasingly evident in his seated position. He was a breath away from realizing his most intimate desire, with the other's consent, when Alastor tilted his head slightly and, with a honeyed voice, said, "You're forgetting one thing, Voxy."

Vox froze, his eyes rising to meet Alastor's, surprised. "What?" he asked in a whisper, clinging to that fragile thread of hope.

Alastor's smile widened, and in that instant, the truth cut deeper than any blade. "That your feelings are none of my business."

In that same moment, the room splintered with a sharp crack. Vox's fingers stiffened abruptly, starting to tremble still hooked on the belt buckle, as a torrent of mad electric shocks coursed through them from the rest of his body.

A pair of thick black tentacles struck the back of Vox's screen, piercing through it from side to side, sending it into a frenzy. The tendrils writhed restlessly, slick in the air right in front of Alastor's abdomen, as the TV Demon sizzled, sparks of electricity flaring from his body to the ground. Where his face should have been, error messages and flashes of colors flickered, while his tense body convulsed and spasmed.

Alastor leaned further down toward him, brushing an antenna with his claws. He emitted a gurgling moan, veiled behind a static radio effect, shocking himself in the process.

"...I think I could accept your alliance ~"

At that exact moment, another pair of tentacles totally pierced Vox's rib cage, tangling with his body. The Radio Demon gave one last gasp before his screen came to a halt and was torn completely apart by the tendrils stuck there. He remained headless, from his neck sizzled the electrical wires that made up his internal system, and began to drip that same blood that dripped in abundance from his chest. Alastor stepped back a step, lifting Vox's lifeless body into the air. He raised his face and gaze, admiring his creation with a smirk. He barely winced with a pleasant, distorted effect at the blood that trickled over his head and face and began to lick it with relish. Then, spinning wildly on itself along with the tentacles-which sprang directly from his shoulders-he hurled it against one of the windows that wrapped around one entire side of the room. Vox's body violently smashed through the dark glass, falling back into the hotel's outer courtyard.

Outside, the sound of shattering glass came a moment before the lifeless body of the Media Demon. Valentino barely had time to lift his red eyes upward before he found himself covered in a myriad of black splinters followed by the body's trajectory violently hitting the ground at his feet. The Moth leapt backward, momentarily flaring its wings concealed in its coat, while Velvette let out a high-pitched scream. All the others present on the porch were also alarmed, turning away petrified, their eyes widened to stare at Vox's headless body, from which an immense pool of blood gradually widened. Angel Dust sprang to his feet, clutching Porchetta to his chest. " ... "

" V-V.."  Valentino, trembling, tried to pronounce his companion's name, but only managed to stumble over the words, lifting his face to the window again to frame Alastor's descent. A huge and very long tentacle of shadow dripped downward, touching the ground and dragging behind the figure of the Radio Demon. With his staff once again clutched between his fingers, the buckle of his pants slightly open, and the blood dripping from his hair cutting his right eye in half, Alastor reached the ground. With his back to the porch, his feet touched the ground just in front of Vox's body, separating him from Valentino and Velvette. " Al... Alastor! What happened?"  Vaggie exclaimed, shakily clutching his spear. " Oh, don't worry, Vaggie. I just got a pebble off my shoe ~ "  He answered her, in a musical tone, without looking at her. " It took me less time than I expected. Just as well, because I have more to do."  Staring at Valentino, however.

The Demon Moth had his gaze nailed on the Half Deer with a deeply incredulous expression, trying to realize the situation. Alastor sharpened his red eyes, lighting his smile with gradual and overwhelming menace.