Reborn As Papa Silva

"Who is this?", Nozel asked, though his tone was entirely unamused. It was a rhetorical question—he knew perfectly well who the man was. He'd met the brother, after all. What he really wanted to know was why he was here.

It wasn't just him staring. His mother, his fiancée, his father, and his baby sister were all watching the blond 'punk' with curious expressions. Well, maybe not simple curiosity, Nozel noted, as he slid an imperceptible glance toward his father. Sebastian was studying the newcomer, scratching his chin with a look of intense interest.

Natch, the Faust heir, met Sebastian's gaze with an unsettling smile, like they were testing each other in some silent standoff. In the background, Jonna and Nathan stood quietly near the side of Acier's rooms, while Draven and Lilith exchanged troubled glances before gesturing toward the newcomer.

Draven, uncharacteristically sheepish, spoke first, his tone hesitant. "This is my eldest son and nominal heir of House Faust, Natch…"

Lilith quickly cut in, finishing what her husband hadn't been able to say, so she wouldn't have to watch him embarrass himself. "As for why he's here," she continued coolly, narrowing her eyes at Natch, "we're not sure. He insisted on coming."

"Maybe you can tell us now, Natch" she added, phrasing it as more demand than question.

Unbothered, Natch casually pulled out a chair as if he owned the place, then produced a box of cigars, utterly indifferent to the disapproving looks from nearly everyone in the room. Just as he was about to light one, Sebastian spoke up.

"Put that away," he said, smiling a tight smile that didn't reach his eyes. "There's a baby in the room, and there are designated areas for such things elsewhere on the estate." Not that you'd have access to them, considering you're technically not supposed to be here, Sebastian thought.

Natch paused, studying Sebastian for a moment, then nodded and tucked the cigar box back into his coat. Sparing his mother a brief look, he shrugged. "Why shouldn't I be here? Isn't this appointment about family business? And as the future Lord Faust, don't I have a right to foster connections with our allies?" He threw a sly look at the Silvas and Agrippas, who reacted with mixed emotions.

Nathan and Jonna mumbled something unintelligible, while Acier, squinting slightly, continued lightly combing Noelle's hair, eliciting coos of delight from the baby. Dorothy, who was standing beside Nozel, appeared to be asleep, though no one was sure if she was paying any attention at all.

Sebastian raised a brow. Speaking so formally while looking like a street punk going through a gothic rebellion—it's a strange mix, he mused, finding himself somewhat amused. I forgot how insufferable Natch used to be.

Contrary to Nozel's thoughts , however, Sebastian felt genuinely curious about why Natch had come. In the original work, he thought, teenage Natch was just beginning his punk phase, obsessed with thrills and extremes. Three years from now, he'll bring ruin to his family. He should be knee-deep in devil research by now. Even if he knew the true purpose of this meeting, I can't see how it would draw him here. So what did?

Sebastian narrowed his eyes subtly. The real question is… what has caught Natch's interest?

Nozel's expression hardened, and he didn't bother to mask his irritation as he addressed Draven, his tone as cold as it was disdainful.

"You told someone outside our circle the truth of these appointments?" he asked, his voice cutting. "You do realize you've just broken our agreement—and our trust?" Nozel's eyes narrowed in accusation.

Draven, unruffled by Nozel's thinly veiled contempt, only shrugged. "Don't patronize me, Young Master Nozel. Did you truly think we wouldn't take some precautions after having all our secrets exposed to your House? We've always kept our successor informed of critical matters. You might not like it, but you should have expected it. Your father certainly did."

At this, several pairs of eyes turned to Sebastian, who was seated beside Acier's bed. Meeting Nozel's gaze evenly, Sebastian gave him a calm, almost approving nod.

Tsk. Nozel clicked his tongue, turning back to face Natch, his expression unchanging. "Why are you really here, Faust? That excuse of yours is as weak as they come. If you want us to tolerate your presence, you should show a little courtesy."

Natch clutched his chest, feigning hurt. "How rude, Silva. Why assume I have some hidden agenda? My father did save your life, after all." He made a slight gesture to his own throat, referencing the Faust family's work.

Nozel didn't flinch. "Regardless of my feelings toward your parents, they saved me and are aiding my mother. They have my gratitude, but it doesn't extend to you. Their actions stand on their own."

Natch gave a small, annoyed hiss. "Che," he muttered, though his words were audible enough for everyone to hear, as if he didn't care who was listening. "I did help with some of that research, you know."

Nozel raised a skeptical brow and glanced over to Draven and Lilith. Draven coughed, clearing his throat as he nodded. "Yes, Natch provided some assistance, although it was minimal," he admitted, almost reluctantly.

Lilith's voice was cool as she added, "Exposure to a supreme-grade devil's curse is hardly a common event. We thought it would be a valuable learning experience."

Please don't use my mother's and my lives as a study session, Nozel thought, suppressing a twitch of irritation. He forced himself to calm down, then exhaled and addressed Natch.

"Very well, Faust, I stand corrected. Thank you for your… contribution." Just as Natch raised his chin, a faint smirk of triumph threatening to emerge, Nozel continued.

"That said, my question still stands: why are you here? Truly?"

They held each other's gaze for a long, charged moment before Natch sighed, a hint of resignation breaking his usual confidence. He jerked his head slightly, signaling Nozel to look toward Sebastian.

"Your father's an interesting man," Natch said with an unreadable smile. "I wanted to meet him in person."

Everyone raised a brow as a sleepy snort escaped Dorothy, the snot bubble at her nose popping as she drifted back to consciousness. Rubbing her eyes, she took a moment to reorient herself, processing the scene around her. The room quieted slightly, tension thick in the air.

Hmm? Sebastian raised an eyebrow, surprised. He's interested in me? He fixed a more scrutinizing gaze on Natch. What does he know?

Before anyone could jump to conclusions, Natch chuckled and elaborated. "You seem to know all the kingdom's secrets, Lord Sebastian. The true nature of my family, the Agrippas… what happened to your wife and son, my friend's abilities, what was going to happen to that old guy… and the list goes on."

That old guy… Nozel paused, realization dawning. Sebastian had never concealed the events surrounding Zara's fate. He couldn't, given that it led to the downfall of two noble houses. As the heir to House Silva, Nozel had been one of the first to know. He'd long since chalked it up to another of his father's mysterious intelligence sources—one that he knew he'd never get answers about. He was just about to tell Natch to drop it when the Faust heir went on.

"Father even asked Azazel about it, but he refused to say anything. Won't tell him a thing about you."

"Natch!" Draven hissed, his face contorted in discomfort. You didn't have to bring that up!

And just like that, the room's temperature seemed to drop again as all eyes turned silently to Sebastian, questions hanging thick in the air. Everyone except Dorothy, who simply shrugged, finding it only natural. You don't mess with seers, she thought.

Most of them expected Sebastian to be livid, perhaps ready to throw out the interloper. But what they didn't expect was the look of bewilderment that crossed his face.

Sebastian raised an eyebrow and, after a slight hesitation, asked Draven, "Why didn't Azazel tell you?" He wasn't exactly surprised that Azazel knew the truth about him. If the devil could perceive Lucius's true nature, then it wouldn't be far-fetched to think he could sense what was happening with someone as seemingly inconsequential as Sebastian.

When Draven first revealed Azazel's abilities, Sebastian had mentally prepared himself for exposure, though confident that Draven would keep it quiet—at least to keep their dealings intact. Perhaps he'd even use the truth as leverage, to gain more favorable terms for his House. But what really puzzled Sebastian was why Azazel had disobeyed his master and kept quiet. What's holding him back? Sebastian wondered. Azazel owes me nothing, and I have no power over him. Yet Draven didn't seem to be lying.

Draven paused, glancing at Sebastian with an uncharacteristically thoughtful look. "I don't know," he replied softly. "I was just as perplexed. This isn't the first time Azazel has withheld information, but he usually makes his reasoning clear." He frowned, recalling the scene from a few days back. Like with Julius. That time, his fear was written all over his face.

Sebastian cocked his brow, intrigued. "Did he give anything away? Maybe fear, or a hint of coldness…?"

Draven shook his head. "I know Azazel. Our bond allows me to feel his mental state, his emotions. Azazel was entirely calm, indifferent. No fear, no reluctance. He simply refused to tell me."

Of course, Draven could have forced Azazel to speak due to their master-slave bond. But he knew that whenever Azazel hid something, it was generally to protect both of them.

The hell? Sebastian had to bite back a curse. I should be relieved my secret wasn't exposed, but this is… unsettling.

Sebastian lowered his head, a deep frown of bewilderment settling over his features. Looks like this transmigration of mine is more complex than I thought.

A new set of questions churned in his mind. Is Azazel withholding himself for my sake, or because of my predecessor? Is there a third party tied to my transmigration—or is he scheming something of his own? His eyes narrowed as he considered a chilling possibility. Don't tell me he's going to be some hidden mastermind, waiting to emerge as the true villain in all of this.

Sebastian felt a slender hand rest gently on his. Glancing over, he saw Acier offering him a silent, comforting smile. Warmth spread through him, though it was tinged with guilt. The one who should be most curious is you, he thought, and yet here you are, comforting me.

He shook his head, a faint smile of bemusement flickering over his face, then turned to Natch with a calm gaze. "Whatever it is you're hoping to learn or accomplish today, you won't be getting it."

Draven let out a quiet sigh of relief. So, Sebastian isn't offended by what I did, he noted gratefully.

Unbothered, Natch grinned and gave his knees a pat before rising to his feet. "That's fine," he said casually. "It'd be boring if you just gave me answers. I only stopped by to say hello."

Nozel raised a brow. "You're leaving already?"

Natch nodded, casting a last look back at Sebastian. "Mind opening a hole in your barrier, so I can go?"

Sebastian paused briefly, then returned Natch's gaze with a sly smile. "Of course." With a simple nod, a section of the deep blue barrier around the room opened, swiftly covered by a shadowy portal.

Natch shot his parents a cheeky grin, earning synchronized eye twitches from both Draven and Lilith, clearly unimpressed. Then, with a final wave, he stepped through the portal and disappeared.

Without delay, Sebastian closed the barrier firmly behind him.

An awkward silence settled over the room until Draven cleared his throat, breaking it. "Apologies, everyone. That's just the kind of person Natch is."

Lilith sighed, nodding. "Honestly, we have no idea what we're going to do with that boy." Though Natch's fearlessness with devils made him a preferable successor over someone like Morgen, who would certainly expose them, his recklessness posed its own challenges.

House Faust had always been passionate about devils and the mysteries of the Otherworld, yet Draven, Lilith, and their predecessors had all exercised caution. They understood that a single misstep or oversight could bring ruin to their legacy. A very brutal ending. Natch, however, was on the opposite end of that spectrum. As the most gifted devil host in the family's history, he'd rarely experienced failure, which had only fueled his ego and dangerous overconfidence.

As he is now, Draven thought grimly, he's a threat to our family and himself.

Acier gave Lilith a sympathetic nod. "I understand what you're going through. My Nozel—"

"Mother!" Nozel interjected quickly, his tone sharp, as Dorothy's ears perked up in interest.

Acier glanced between her son and his fiancée, offering a sly, knowing smile. "Kids can be rash and careless," she amended smoothly.

Nozel grumbled under his breath, a sigh of relief slipping past his lips. As long as she's not calling me out directly, I can live with it.

Dorothy pouted for a moment before a subtle wink from Acier caught her eye. A smug grin crept across her face as she noted that Nozel was distracted. Oh, I'll get the whole story later, my dear, in a much more private setting, she thought gleefully.

"Draven?" Sebastian's voice broke the silence.

"Yes?" Draven replied, his gaze meeting the royal patriarch's with quiet focus.

"How many devils has Natch contracted with so far?" Sebastian asked, his tone calm yet piercing. At the question, tension rippled through the room.

He's a devil host too?! Nozel narrowed his eyes, disbelief and apprehension flashing across his face. And what does Father mean by devils—as in, plural?

Draven's expression tightened, but he answered levelly. "Four."

Nozel's eyes widened. Four?! He recalled the sheer power Draven wielded with a single devil's strength, and he shuddered to imagine the might of someone contracted to four. Could that guy be as strong as Mother? The thought hit him hard, frustration tightening in his chest. I need to get stronger. I hate feeling this powerless.

Sebastian gave a slight nod, his face remaining composed. But beneath the surface, his thoughts whirled. Four already? Natch was only sixteen. In the original work, House Faust had fallen when Natch was nineteen. In the manga when Draven had presented Natch with the chance to bind that devil he sounded as if Natch had only just completed taming his fourth devil.

Perhaps Draven wasn't as arrogant as I thought, Sebastian realized. If he believed Natch was ready for Lucifugus, it wasn't due to blind confidence. It made sense that Draven would give Natch time to acclimate to his devils' power and master it before even considering a supreme-grade contract. 3 years time in this case. 

Sebastian's gaze softened slightly, his respect for Draven's pragmatism deepening. Leading a family of devil worshipers without detection takes more than ambition—it takes skill and patience.

He nodded, absorbing the new perspective, yet his thoughts remained focused. Natch is exactly the kind of genius I need for my plans with the devils, he mused, but in his current state, he's reckless. I'll have to set him on the right path.

"You know, Draven…" he began, drawing everyone's attention again. "About Natch. I can help with that."

Draven's expression flickered with skepticism. "You can?"

"Oh, yes," Sebastian replied, his smile soft but firm. His gaze shifted briefly to Dorothy, who cocked her head at him in mild confusion. I can definitely help.

Moonlight spilled into Nacht's room until he blocked it out by shutting the blinds. He snuffed out the lamps and lanterns, slipping into baggy black pants and a white undershirt, then crawled into bed, pulling his blankets up around him.

"Hahhh." Nacht let out a yawn, his exhaustion and boredom mingling. Devils are cool and all, but there's just so much to learn.

He absentmindedly fiddled with the plain cord necklace hanging around his neck, each devil relic attached to it a reminder of the work waiting for him. But tonight, he'd let sleep take him. He closed his eyes, ready to drift off.

Nacht didn't notice he wasn't alone in the room. A shadow stretched from the brick wall across from his bed, spilling out into four distinct figures.

Sebastian, Dorothy, and Draven and Lilith—in devil union.

The four figures approached his bed, their forms shrouded in eerie black wisps.

"Are you sure he won't sense us?" Dorothy asked, her voice hushed with uncertainty.

Draven nodded, his gruff tone breaking the silence. "Nacht is talented—a true genius—but even a genius is limited without enough time to grow."

Lilith added, "With all his potential, he's still too early in his training to detect us. Not with Draven's shadows and my illusions concealing us."

Dorothy glanced at Sebastian, who gave her a reassuring nod. She accepted it with a deep breath.

Neither Nacht nor his devils would sense anyone approaching him—not through their five senses, nor through mana or even gut instinct.

Sebastian sighed. If Lilith and Draven wanted to assassinate someone, few could hope to survive.

As they reached Nacht's bedside and hovered over the sleeping boy, Lilith and Draven exchanged a glance with Sebastian.

"We brought you this far," Draven said, narrowing his eyes. "It's time you share your plan—and Ms. Unsworth's role in it."

Just because Sebastian had offered to help, and despite their families' cooperative ties, Draven wasn't about to discard years of careful reasoning and let down his guard. He needs to know Sebastian's intentions, especially when it concerns his successor. His son.

Sebastian smiled and nodded. "The two of you are most worried about Nacht's recklessness, aren't you?" There's nothing more dangerous than someone who doesn't know his own limits. Nacht could bring calamity upon himself and his family if he doesn't get an attitude adjustment—and soon.

The husband-and-wife pair nodded, glancing at their sleeping son with a mix of pride and unease.

Sebastian continued, "That recklessness comes from never experiencing real setbacks. No real challenges to force growth."

"And what exactly are you planning to do about that?" Lilith's tone was cool and edged with suspicion.

Sebastian smiled, unflinching. "Traumatize him, of course."

An awkward silence fell over the group, broken only by Dorothy's incredulous look. Dad…you really could've phrased that better, she thought, sweatdropping.

Lilith and Draven blinked, momentarily taken aback, until Draven cleared his throat. "I beg your pardon—"

"You heard me." Sebastian cut him off, then turned to Dorothy. "Dorothy, do you have a spell that can invade someone's dreams and, let's say, tailor those dreams to your wishes?"

Dorothy tilted her head and nodded. "Yeah, it's called Dream Weaver." [1]

Sebastian's smile broadened as he looked back at the couple. "Perfect. Instead of weaving a dream, Dorothy will read my thoughts and craft Nacht's worst nightmare. Something unforgettable. It'll be a wake-up call—and when he comes out of it, you'll be looking at a very different Nacht Faust."

Draven and Lilith exchanged a silent look, studying Sebastian. Neither questioned how he knew Nacht's supposed "greatest nightmare"—they'd long since accepted that Sebastian Silva had a knack for knowing things he probably shouldn't.

Right now, they were focused on two very different concerns. Lilith's voice came out cold. "So, you expect us to stand by while you traumatize our son—for an attitude adjustment?"

Draven nodded beside her, his jaw set.

Sebastian shrugged. "It's up to you. But I think you both understand just how dangerous Nacht is right now if he doesn't change. You're in devil union with Azazel's insight—surely you can calculate it yourselves. If this goes unchecked, House Faust won't last another few years."

Lilith glanced at Draven, who met her eyes with a grim nod, biting his lip. Draven turned his gaze back to Sebastian, his devilish pupils narrowed behind the goat mask.

"How sure are you this will even work?" Draven's voice held a note of urgency. At the end of the day, it's just a dream. Nacht might brush it off and double down instead. I don't want to be complicit in pointlessly traumatizing my own child!

Sebastian offered him a cryptic smile, shaking his head. "Oh, it'll work. That much I'm certain of." Nacht Faust loves Morgen more than anything in the world. "And to make sure it does, you two will play a critical role afterward."

Draven and Lilith exchanged another wary look. "What do you mean?" Lilith asked.

Sebastian shook his head. "You'll see. So—are we doing this or not?" His tone was calm, as if he had all the time in the world.

The couple exchanged one last look before Draven gritted his teeth. "If anything—anything happens to my boy, I swear, I'll make you pay."

Draven Faust was never an indifferent man. How could the patriarch of a family of devil researchers, always seeking to flirt with the otherworld, ever be? Those who pursued their deepest desires, like Draven, might seem cold on the surface, but they were often the most passionate at heart.

Draven Faust loved three things above all: his wife, Lilith, his eldest, Nacht, and his youngest, Morgen. If any harm came to them, he wouldn't hold back.

Sebastian smiled. "I'd think less of you if you didn't."

Sebastian elbowed Dorothy, who nodded, placing her hands on his head as he bent down so she could reach. A shimmer of purple and pink enveloped her hands, her eyes swirling with the colors as she began processing the scene her father was transmitting to her mind.

Draven and Lilith watched in silence. After several minutes, the two returned to normal, but Draven didn't miss the complex look Dorothy cast toward the sleeping Nacht as she murmured, "Changing fate, huh."

What does that mean? Draven was about to call on Azazel's insight to reveal the image for himself when he heard Azazel's voice through their mental bond.

Don't do it, Master, Azazel spoke, a thread of unease in his voice.

What do you mean, Azazel? Draven demanded, wanting a more concrete answer this time.

Master, you are not a seer—nor am I. Peering into heavenly secrets isn't something we're meant for. With my power, we can withstand it, but some things are better left unseen. It could break you.

Draven gritted his teeth, realizing Azazel was giving him a genuine warning. If he insisted, Azazel wouldn't stop him, but there would be risks. As he pondered this, he felt a slender hand on his arm. Glancing sideways, he saw his wife, her eyes filled with concern.

Trying to slip back into his stoic demeanor, he gave her a faint nod and sighed inwardly. Very well, Azazel. I won't look.

Dorothy's grimoire floated out, glowing with its familiar pink aura, as she raised her hands over the sleeping Nacht. She gave Draven and Lilith one last questioning look and sighed when they nodded.

Her mana began to circulate, the same swirling hues of purple and pink enveloping her arms. "Dream Magic: Dream Weaver."

Natch's POV: [2]

Hands in my pockets, a cigarette dangling from my mouth, I stood at the center of the basement podium, surrounded by the air of expectancy and reverence only my family could summon in a devil-binding ritual. Around me, hooded figures in deep maroon cloaks waited in silence, their faces hidden in shadow. My parents stood directly ahead, their eyes fixed on me with pride and something more—a hunger, maybe, for what I could accomplish here tonight.

Father's voice rose, full of excitement, thick with conviction. "To think you'd contract with four devils so quickly… and master their power as well! You are a genius, Nacht!"

I couldn't help the smug smile that curled up on my lips. Heh. I was pretty amazing, wasn't I?

Father reached into his robes and pulled out a dark bracelet, an ominous thing with a black gem gleaming at its center. A bead of sweat traced its way down his cheek as he held it out to me, the air around him humming with barely-contained excitement. "You just might be able to contract with this devil as well," he said, his breathing turning ragged as he looked at me, his gaze filled with expectation.

"The underworld is ruled by three devils of gravity, time, and space. One of the devils who supports them is the supreme devil, Lucifugus!!" he proclaimed, his voice trembling with awe and fear.

A chill ran down my spine at the name. Lucifugus. A supreme devil. Not some low- or mid-level grunt, but a devil from the highest tier. The thrill surged through me, a charge that set every nerve on edge, but I kept my expression cool, a smirk tugging at my mouth as I took the bracelet from him. "Huh. Interesting…"

"Don't do it, brother!"

The voice cut through the air like a blade, shattering the charged silence. I whipped my head around to face the hooded extras, where one of them stepped forward, shrugging off his robe. But I didn't need to see his face to know who it was.

Morgen.

He stood there, his white uniform almost glowing in the gloom, his hair pulled back in a ponytail, his grimoire at his side. Sweat glistened on his face, but his expression was deadly serious, nothing like the smiling brother I was used to.

"Morgen!" Mother's voice cracked with shock, and I caught the confusion and dismay in her gaze. He wasn't supposed to be here. He wasn't supposed to know.

Undeterred, Morgen stepped closer, his voice taut with urgency and anger. "Father, Mother! Forbidden magic is a crime! As a magic knight, I can't overlook this!"

Father staggered back, his eyes wide. "Morgen… when did you…?!"

But Morgen wasn't interested in explaining himself. He turned to me, a pleading, desperate look in his eyes. "Besides, more than anything, it's dangerous! Any more would be—"

"Peh." I spat the cigarette from my mouth, cutting him off with a sneer. Morgen didn't get it—he'd never get it. Why we flirted with the dark, why we summoned devils even knowing the risks, the very real chance we might not survive. It was the thrill. It was power. It was living on the edge of death itself.

"Dangerous?" I said, smirking as I slipped the bracelet onto my wrist, feeling the cold metal bite into my skin. "That's what's good about it."

The bracelet settled on my wrist with a satisfying weight. A supreme devil… I liked the sound of that.

"Life really should be this much of a rush," I said, almost to myself, my voice rising with the fire burning in my veins. Morgen… you and I… we were never the same. You couldn't understand this hunger, this drive to push past all limits, to own the power no one else dared touch.

"Brother…" His voice was quiet, his eyes wide with a fear that made something dark stir in me, a mocking thrill at his concern. Did he think I couldn't handle this? Was he underestimating me?

Didn't he see how powerful I'd become?

I ignored the anxious look in his eyes, letting the eerie smile twist across my face.

"Here and now… I'll surpass my limits!!" I declared, raising my left hand, feeling the dark power building inside me, roaring in my blood as I prepared to summon Lucifugus.

This was it. This was what it meant to be alive.

Taking a moment to revel in the electric thrill flooding through me, I channeled my magic into the bracelet and spat out the incantation, feeling each word pulse with power.

"Summon."

A confident smile spread across my face as I turned, ready to bask in the glory of what I had summoned. But the smile vanished as swiftly as it had come, drained from my face by a cold, paralyzing fear that shot through my body.

Hovering before me, Lucifugus appeared, seated cross-legged in midair, towering over me with an aura that was beyond overwhelming. His pitch-black figure stretched up, tall and slender, exuding an intimidating stillness. Long, pointed ears jutted from his head, two massive ox-like horns curved upward, and a pair of dark, tattered wings cast an ominous shadow. His tail swayed slowly behind him, an unnervingly sentient thing. His face was empty, devoid of any expression—but it was his mana that stole my breath.

I swallowed hard, my pulse hammering in my chest. I'd expected something grand, a terrifying spectacle worthy of a supreme devil, but this—this was beyond anything I could have imagined. The power rolling off him was suffocating, weightier than anything I'd ever felt. The ritual should have restricted him, confined his mana… so why did it feel like he could crush me with a mere thought?

A chill swept over me as screams erupted behind me. I didn't move—I couldn't move—but I sensed the carnage unfolding. From the corner of my eye, I saw the cloaked figures convulsing, their voices choked with horror.

"Gwahh?!!"

"Aaugh…!"

"Aaaahhh!"

The piercing cries were swallowed up by a darkness so deep it seemed to pull the light from the room. Lucifugus wasn't simply attacking—he was annihilating everyone who dared stand in his presence. His darkness surged forward, a shadow so dense and black it made Yami's magic look like a pale imitation, like a child's harmless shadow puppet. The hooded extras, my parents—all of them vanished in wisps of black smoke, consumed by his darkness, as if they had never existed at all.

My legs trembled, rooted in place, unable to summon the slightest response. I wanted to move, to run, to fight—anything—but fear had paralyzed every fiber of my being. I was trapped, completely at his mercy, staring up at him in helpless terror. My mind scrambled, desperate to think, but nothing would come. I couldn't even gather the nerve to try to call on the power of my other devils. Every warning Father had given me came crashing down, each one sharper and colder than the last.

I thought I knew power. I thought I was prepared for the risks, the price of this ritual. But standing here, I understood that this creature, this Lucifugus, was something else. Something beyond reason, beyond comprehension.

Just as my legs were about to buckle under the pressure, a force slammed into me from behind. A familiar grip seized my wrist, wrenching the bracelet with frantic strength.

"Morgen…!!" I gasped, my mind reeling. He was alive—still alive! Relief flashed through me, but before I could voice it, I felt his hand tighten around the bracelet. The magic link between us and Lucifugus pulsed as he twisted the relic with desperate intent.

No. The relic—Morgen, what are you doing?

In an instant, I understood. He was trying to break it, to sever the link and banish Lucifugus back to the underworld. "Don't—" I tried to shout, reaching to push him away. Intervention by a third party… who knew what that could—

But it was too late. With a shattering sound, the bracelet cracked, the pieces tumbling from my wrist to the floor. Lucifugus melted into nothingness, his presence receding as the summoning ended. But none of that mattered to me now.

I fell to my knees, all my attention on the person in my arms—the trembling, bloodied figure of my brother. Morgen lay pale and weakened, blood slipping from his mouth, and his magic faint, draining away before my eyes.

"Morgen… Morgen!!!" I choked, holding him tightly, willing him to stay, to focus. I watched his life slipping away, his mana flickering weaker with each breath. Panic clawed at me. He was dying, right here in my arms, and I had no magic to save him.

My eyes fell on his blackened, cursed hand, and my heart seized with horror. His breathing grew shallow, each exhale dragging as he struggled for words.

"Morgen… please," I whispered, desperation tearing through me. If only I had light magic, something to heal him, to give him a chance. But shadow magic couldn't bring anyone back; it couldn't fix what was broken.

I laid him down carefully, trying to ease his pain as his hand reached out, trembling. His voice, a faint, broken whisper, pulled my gaze to his face, capturing my every attention.

"Haha…" he rasped, his voice barely audible, yet determined to speak. "I knew… my family… was working with forbidden magic. But I… didn't report it… to the Knights." He paused, a slight smile breaking through the pain. "I guess… this is… what I get…"

"You idiot!" I burst out, confusion and anger raging inside me. Why didn't he stop us? Why didn't he follow through with his duty, his honor? If he knew what we were doing, why risk himself?

I looked at him, demanding answers, refusing to understand. "You just… why… did you…!!" The words caught in my throat.

Morgen struggled to respond, his voice growing weaker with each syllable. "My… dream… was to stand beside you, Brother," he murmured, each word fighting its way out. "And… protect the kingdom's peace… as knights of shadow and light, so… I…"

But he didn't finish. His eyes, fading and colorless, slid closed.

"Mor…gen…" My voice cracked, and I called his name again, my pleas dissolving into a shattered whisper. "Morgen…"

I watched him, but no response came. His eyes, once so full of warmth and light, were closed forever.

Morgen was dead. The truth settled over me, heavy and absolute. I had stolen everything from him—his dream, his future, his life—all because of my arrogance, my obsession with power. Despite knowing what I was, Morgen had believed in me. He had trusted that, given time, I would change, that I would become someone worthy of standing beside him as a Magic Knight.

But Morgen was wrong. He had given his faith, his love, and his life for a person who would never be worthy. And now… he would never feel, never live, never stand beside me again.

All because of me.

I set my brother down on the ground, and pushed through my trembling to try to clean up his hair, and wipe the drying blood staining his face. Looking at that sorrowful, yet peaceful face, I couldn't help but think how I felt about him.

The very picture of a good guy. Straightforward, so dazzling I couldn't even look at you. That was what you were like, and I… I really loved you. 

Even if I couldn't shine… I wanted you to do it. If I was beside you… it felt as if I'd defile your light, so I-

"Aaaaahhhhhh!!!" I couldn't hold back the tears anymore, as I screamed to the top of my lungs, head jerking to the ceiling. 

"I'm begging you!!! Save my brother!!!!" I'm the one… who should die. "He hasn't done anything wrong!! Gods please!!!"

But after screaming my heart out, no response came, no divine miracle, nothing, and that;s when I realized, as my pupils dilated.

Don't go spouting whatever's convenient for you at the time. You did whatever you wanted and now, when you're in trouble, you count on the gods? How shameless. Don't gimme that, you idiot. Who in their right mind… would save you?

I toppled over Morgen, hugging him, clutching his dead body, his corpse seeking warmth, and trying to return all the warmth he's given me. I understand. Until I die… I will never forgive myself.

"Hahh!" I jolted upright, my arm shooting out as I gasped for air, my body slick with sweat. I paused, trying to catch my breath, my heart still pounding. A moment passed as I blinked, taking in the familiar surroundings of my room—everything exactly as I remembered it. I sat up on the edge of my bed, exhaling in exhaustion.

What the hell just happened?

Before I could make sense of it, a small, impish figure appeared in front of me. Black, with sharp teeth, horns, a tail, and wings—familiar as ever.

"Gimodolo?" I croaked, swallowing hard as a dry lump formed in my throat. The devil floated there, his usual concerned expression on his face.

"Master Natch, what happened?!" Gimodolo asked, his voice sharp with worry. "I felt like our bond was cut off for a moment… Did you have a bad dream?"

"Bad dream?" I stammered, disbelief dripping from my words. My body was still shaking, but I managed to steady it. "It was just a dream," I muttered, lowering my gaze.

Just a dream… just a dream. Father, Mother, Morgen—they're all alive!

But the tremors wouldn't stop. And the tears, once held back, broke free. I hadn't cried like this in years—no, it wasn't just tears. I was bawling, pathetic and weak.

"Ahhh… ahhh… ahhh…" My sobs weren't loud, but they were raw—choked, desperate, shameful. I felt like I was losing it, caught between laughing maniacally and crying like a child.

"Master Natch! Master Natch!" Gimodolo's voice broke through, trying to reach me, his warmth lingering through our bond. It helped, just a little. Slowly, I began to pull myself together. My bed was a mess, soaked in snot and tears, my eyes bloodshot like they'd been in that dream.

Finally, I dragged myself out of bed.

"Master Natch… do you want to talk about it?" Gimodolo asked, his voice soft. He wasn't alone. Slotos, Plumede, and Walgner had appeared, hovering around him, all watching me with quiet concern.

I felt a strange warmth spread through me. These guys... maybe I don't show it enough, but I should appreciate them more. I chuckled softly, catching them off guard.

"No need. You guys can go. I'm just going to clean up and take a walk," I said, waving them off.

They exchanged glances, their concern still present, but nodded hesitantly before disappearing.

I sighed, pushing myself up. I moved slowly into the bathroom, looking at my tear-streaked face in the mirror. Sweat and tears mixed, making me look like a wreck. I splashed water on my face, trying to wash away the remnants of the nightmare.

After drying off with a towel, I changed into something cleaner and stepped out of my room.

I gave a brief nod to the few servants who bowed as they passed by. House Faust's finances were tight—our payment from House Silva wasn't due until the end of the month—but honestly, I preferred it that way.

Fewer eyes on us. Less chance of anyone overhearing my embarrassing moment earlier.

I walked down the stairs and into the living room, only to stop short. Both my parents were sitting together on the couch.

For a second, the image of them lying lifeless flashed in my mind, but I shoved it down. I was about to greet them when they both turned to me, eyes locking onto mine with unreadable, scrutinizing expressions.

"Natch," my father called out, his tone impassive, as he stood up with Mother by his side.

Not feeling particularly defiant, I approached them. "Yes, Father? Mother?"

Father studied me for a moment, his eyes narrowing as if trying to see right through me. The way he looked at me made me feel... off.

"Come with us. We have something to show you," he said after a beat.

"...Okay?" I responded, unsure.

Father's grimoire flipped open, and he got down on one knee, placing his hand on the floor. "Shadow magic: Dark Garden Invitation."

We're going back to the basement? I raised an eyebrow as we entered the base of our operations once again.

I couldn't help but look at the devil-binding podium, the sight of it making my stomach churn. But I fought it down, turning back to face my parents. "So, what do you want to talk about, Father—"

My words stopped dead when I saw my father pull out a familiar black gem bracelet. My pupils widened in shock. The déjà vu hit me hard. Father approached with that same intense passion he always had.

"To think you'd contract with four devils so quickly… and even master their power! You're a genius, Natch!" he said, practically glowing with pride.

How is this happening? Am I still dreaming? I pinched myself, feeling the sharp pain immediately. Definitely not a dream. "W-wait, Father—" I tried to stop him, but he didn't skip a beat, continuing with that same eager zeal.

Father got closer, his eyes burning with excitement, a trickle of sweat rolling down his cheek. "You might even be able to contract with this devil too."

What?! I didn't understand—what the hell was happening right now?!

His breathing became more ragged, more excited, as he launched into an explanation. "The underworld is ruled by three devils—gravity, time, and space. And one of the devils who supports them is the supreme devil, Lucifugus!!"

A chill ran down my spine, my hair standing on end. My pupils dilated as I felt my parents' eyes on me, watching with eerie expectation.

My shock must've been obvious because they were patient, waiting for me to speak without pressing. I was grateful for that—they gave me the time to think.

Was that dream… not just a dream? Could it have been a glimpse of the future? Maybe a divine revelation? It didn't line up completely—Morgen was missing, the hooded figures weren't there, and it was happening years earlier—but I couldn't just dismiss it.

Lucifugus... No one can handle that kind of power! I won't let that ruin my family, my loved ones... not again!

I looked at my parents, my mind made up. "No."

Their smiles faltered, confusion taking over their faces.

"No?" Mother asked gently, clearly trying to understand. "What do you mean, no?"

"I'm not interested," I replied firmly.

Father sighed and tucked the bracelet away into his satchel. "Maybe it's too soon. You've just finished contracting with your fourth devil, after all. We can wait."

"No!" I snapped, cutting him off, the force of my words surprising even me. I immediately regretted the harshness, but I couldn't back down now.

I softened, glancing at the floor, before gritting my teeth and looking back up at them. "I'm done with everything. I don't want any part of this anymore."

My parents' eyes went wide with shock. Mother spoke first, her voice laced with anxiety. "Natch, what do you mean? You love devils, and studying the otherworld with us—"

"I did," I interrupted, my voice shaky. Sweat was trickling down my forehead as I met their confused gazes, needing them to understand. I had to make myself clear.

I trembled, clutching my necklace. "I'm happy with what I have now. I don't need more. So let's stop here, okay?"

"Natch!" Father took a step toward me, but I flinched back, and he hesitated. He didn't comment on it, just raised his hand in my direction. "If you quit, who will inherit the family legacy?"

"I don't care!" I shook my head violently. Is a legacy that ends a family really worth keeping? I knew I couldn't convince them to drop everything just like that.

Without another word, I summoned my own shadow gate beneath me, and it pulled me away.

"Natch Faust, where are you going?!" Mother shouted, but I didn't look back. Father stared at me, his expression indifferent, not trying to stop me. I couldn't bring myself to fight my parents.

"I'm going to join the Magic Knights!" I shouted back, leaving them speechless as I disappeared.

I reappeared in the living room, bolted out of the mansion, and hopped onto a broom, flying toward the Magic Knight Headquarters.

Just wait, Morgen. I'm coming!

End of POV:

Back in the basement, Draven and Lilith watched their son flee, disappearing into the shadows.

Lilith blinked, a strange look crossing her face. We wanted Nacht to change, to adjust his attitude, but isn't this too much? Now we don't even have a successor.

A knot tightened in Draven's stomach. "Lilith?" he called.

"Yeah?" She turned to him, pausing when she saw the sorrowful expression on his face—a look she hadn't seen in years.

Draven felt a sickness in his gut. He had wanted Nacht to understand fear, to tame his reckless, destructive tendencies. But seeing the way Nacht trembled, the hesitance in his every step, the panic in his eyes—it didn't feel right. It felt wrong. Nacht is supposed to be strong, confident, he thought. Nothing hurts a father more than seeing his son broken, knowing he played a part in it.

Draven looked down at Lilith and asked, his voice thick with regret, "What did Sebastian show our boy?"

Lilith's eyes welled with tears, and she leaned into her husband, her voice hoarse. "I... I don't know…"

Far away, two figures soared through the night sky on brooms, heading toward the capital side by side.

Dorothy paused mid-flight and glanced at her father. "Dad... did we do the right thing?"

Sebastian studied her for a moment, then nodded, his voice firm. "Of course we did. We just prevented a catastrophe, didn't we?"

"...Yeah." Dorothy nodded weakly, but the words didn't feel right. That dream hadn't been just a dream. By reading her father's thoughts, she knew it was a glimpse into a future that was both possible and inevitable—one that now, perhaps, would never come to be. Still, an uncomfortable weight pressed on her chest.

Sebastian sighed, his eyes focused ahead as they continued their flight. The result was exactly what he wanted, but the method... that left something to be desired. He could only hope Nacht wouldn't take it too hard. If he did, the entire plan for Liebe might have to be revised.

As they neared the capital, they paused in midair. Sebastian turned to Dorothy. "Tell your mom I'm sorry, but I won't be joining you for dinner tonight. I have somewhere to be."

"...Okay..." Dorothy replied softly, not pressing for details.

"...Goodnight, Dorothy." Sebastian patted her head, ruffling her hair through her hat. "Sleep well. You did nothing wrong. You saved many lives today, so don't let it weigh on you, alright?"

"Umm..." Dorothy's smile grew more genuine as she nodded, then flew toward the Silva Estate, passing through the protective barrier.

After watching his daughter disappear into the distance, Sebastian changed course, his eyes hardening with determination. He had a general to hunt and another catastrophe to prevent.

Author's Note: 

[1] I gained the idea of this spell from the LOTM series, sequence 3 of the Spectator Pathway, Dream Weaver. Dream Weaver's can weave objects, scenes, and objects within a dream that are indistinguishable from reality making the target not even realize that they are in a dream.

[2] I hate rehashing the canon, the most exhausting thing to write. At times like this I'm just tempted to go say read chapter so and so, to understand. Anyways if you guys want a better understanding and depiction of this go read chapter 286. 

[3] No omake today, this was a long chapter, and I felt it'd take away from the atmosphere.