Dinner was too peaceful.
That alone was suspicious.
The Gremory estate glowed under clean lamplight, and the long dining table looked like sothing out of a dostic fantasy novel. Kuroka sat on the table instead of a chair, cross-legged, tail flicking with the smug confidence of soone who’d claid territory. Ophis sat directly across from her, thodically poking at a bowl of noodles like it had personally wronged her.
Nyx leaned back in her chair, sipping tea with perfect posture — which made the sarcasm dripping from her next words hit even harder.
“So this is dostic bliss. Feels wrong.”
Hespera stabbed a piece of grilled fish. “Give it ten minutes. Soone will explode.”
Rias sipped her wine, arching a brow. “Not if you sit still for once.”
“I am sitting still,” Hespera said. “You should be proud.”
“You’re vibrating,” Akeno muttered. “I can hear the table humming.”
Kuroka leaned forward. “That’s her chaos energy trying not to murder the furniture, nya.”
“Rude but accurate,” Hespera said. She smiled faintly and took another bite of fish. “Anyway, I’m learning to blend in.”
Sirzechs glanced up from his seat at the end of the table. “You once turned a Vatican library into a void because the priest annoyed you.”
“He insulted my handwriting,” Hespera said flatly. “Actions have consequences.”
Venelana choked on her drink. “Dear Satan…”
Rias muttered, “You an ‘dear Hespera.’”
“Correct,” Hespera said, entirely serious.
Kuroka’s tail thumped against her leg. “You’re hopeless.”
“Adorable,” Hespera corrected, mouth curving into a small grin. “And humble.”
Ophis looked up from her noodles. “You are not humble.”
“That's debatable,” Hespera said.
“Not true,” Ophis replied, tone unchanged.
Nyx chuckled quietly. “I missed this.”
Hespera’s grin softened. “Yeah. too.”
For a mont, the room went quiet — not the awkward kind, just calm. Even she allowed herself to enjoy it.
Then the ground trembled.
It wasn’t much. Just enough to rattle a teacup. But every divine being at that table went still. Hespera’s head tilted, eyes narrowing like she was listening to a sound no one else could hear.
Rias frowned. “What is it?”
Hespera’s smile vanished. “That...”
“That what?”
She stood, chair scraping back. “The tree.”
Kuroka straightened. “Yggdrasil?”
“Yeah,” Hespera said, voice low. “It’s screaming again.”
The others started to rise, but she raised a hand. “Nope. Sit. If this is what I think it is, I don’t need backup. I need plausible deniability.”
Rias scowled. “You can’t just—”
“Rias,” Hespera said, tone shifting — quiet, calm, final. “Stay here. If this goes bad, you’ll feel it. That’s your cue to run and pray to literally anyone but .”
Kuroka’s voice softened. “Hespera…”
Hespera looked back, the faintest smirk tugging at her lips. “Save so cake.”
Then she blinked out of existence.
~☆~
The air around Yggdrasil was thick and wrong.
The tree’s massive silhouette, once radiant, now lood like a corpse, its branches wilted, bark splitting open to bleed tar-black sap.
Hespera appeared midair, scanning the landscape. The ground below seethed with movent. The corruption hadn’t died — it had evolved. Great lumps of sludge were crawling together, fusing into twisted bodies with too many limbs and mouths. Their faces lted in loops like a nightmare trying to rember itself.
She sighed. “I leave you idiots unsupervised for half a day.”
One of the corruption beasts scread and launched upward. She didn’t move. It hit her aura and detonated like wet clay in a furnace.
“Ten seconds in and I’m already annoyed,” she muttered, stretching her fingers. “New record.”
The horde swelled, hundreds of them, eyes glowing green and white. They surged forward, mindless but focused.
Hespera’s tone dropped to sothing almost fond. “Okay. You wanna dance? Let’s dance.”
The first wave hit her like a tidal wall — and vanished. She didn’t even raise a hand. The air shimred once, and the creatures collapsed into ash mid-leap.
She landed lightly on cracked ground. Beneath her boots, the soil hissed. The roots groaned. The corruption was burrowed deep, feeding off the planet’s rot.
“Well,” she said dryly. “Ti for drastic nonsense.”
She reached into her dinsional storage. The space rippled, parting like silk. From within floated a small orb of light — fragile, trembling, beautiful. Lucifer’s soul.
“Still pretty,” she murmured. “Still cursed.”
Her voice softened. “Hey, brother. Rember when you said you’d burn Heaven to prove a point? I did it better.”
The corruption hissed, recoiling from the light.
She raised the orb higher. “Let’s fix our family drama, huh?”
Her fingers glowed as she began cleansing the soul. The light turned pure white, shedding the traces of divine and infernal corruption both. Hespera’s power threaded through it like silver veins, rewriting it atom by atom.
“Finally,” she whispered. “Clean slate.”
The orb hardened, expanding into a massive gemstone. The color shimred between gold and magenta — Heaven and Hell bound together.
“Not bad,” she said, turning it in her hand. “You’d make a nice paperweight.”
She descended to the heart of the rot, ignoring the corruption monsters closing in. A tendril lashed out — she caught it, crushed it between her fingers, and flicked the remains away.
“Rude.”
More ca. She ignored them, walking straight through the storm. Each one that touched her turned to dust.
When she reached the center, she stabbed the gemstone into the ground like planting a seed. The instant it touched the soil, the world twitched.
“Let’s make so history.”
~☆~
The System chid in her mind:
[Skill Activation – Paradox Genesis]
“Warning: Extre Reality Manipulation Detected.”
Hespera cracked her neck. “Yeah, yeah. File a complaint.”
Light exploded outward. Everything froze — the monsters, the falling ash, the clouds. Even gravity hesitated, unsure if it was still invited.
Her wings flared open, all twenty-four of them, each pair a different hue. Gold. Silver. Magenta. Black. They curved around her like blades. The air humd, vibrating under her command.
“Rewriting corruption,” she murmured, voice steady. “Erase pollution signatures. Restore ecosystem integrity. Replace idiocy with common sense.”
Reality didn’t argue; it obeyed.
Lightning struck around her in concentric circles. The ground split. The gemstone pulsed, sending threads of gold light through the soil. The black corruption writhed, trying to retreat, but she clenched her hand, dragging it back like smoke into a jar.
“Oh no,” she said sweetly. “You started this ss. You don’t get to run.”
The storm built, thunder so loud it cracked open mountains. Roots broke through the ground like veins of light. The corrupted beasts lted into glowing dust. Each new strike of lightning seeded another sprout, another branch.
It was working — painfully, violently, beautifully.
Then ca the backlash.
Every nerve in her body scread. Her wings flickered. Her skin split along her arms from the pressure of her own power.
“It was worth it,” she hissed through gritted teeth. “All of it.”
One bolt of lightning slamd into her shoulder. She stumbled, smoke rising from her sleeve.
“Seriously? The tree’s smiting for helping? Ungrateful stick.”
Another bolt missed by inches. She rolled her eyes. “Fine! You get one pass.”
The final shockwave hit — a roar of sound and light so bright the entire Underworld saw the flash. When it faded, Yggdrasil stood reborn.
The trunk towered higher than before, bark smooth and unscarred, branches glowing with pale green light. The roots pulsed beneath the ground, healthy again, breathing.
The gemstone remained embedded in its base, glowing faintly. Lucifer’s essence, transford.
Hespera collapsed against the trunk, half-laughing, half-panting. “I swear, if this thing dies again, I’m replacing it with bamboo.”
A deep rumble rolled across the clearing. Albion.
The white dragon stirred from his rest, scales nded, eyes faintly glowing. He lifted his massive head, nostrils flaring. You did it.
Hespera looked up. “Barely.”
The rot is gone. The air is clean.
“Yeah,” she said. “Environntalism, but I made it divine level.”
Albion’s massive eye blinked slowly. You gave the tree your brother’s soul? Why?
“He owed rent,” Hespera said.
The dragon actually huffed a sound like laughter. You could have used your own essence.
“Already leaking chaos all over this dinsion,” she said. “Lucifer’s soul had enough light to balance the rot. Plus, it’s poetic. The fallen angel becos the heart of life. Soone in Heaven’s gonna hate that.”
They already do.
“Good,” she said, smiling faintly. “I live for their discomfort.”
Albion shifted his coils. You risked too much.
“You say that every ti,” she said. “And every ti, I win.”
One day, that streak ends.
She shrugged. “Then I’ll rewrite the loss. Perks of being .”
He stared at her, massive and quiet, then lowered his head so one golden eye t hers. Rest, Hespera.
“Can’t,” she said. “Rest makes philosophical. Philosophy makes destructive.”
Even you must stop eventually.
She smiled faintly. “Eventually. Not today.”
~☆~
By the ti she returned through the rift, the estate was quiet again. Kuroka was pacing by the door, tail puffed up like a feather duster.
The mont Hespera stepped through, Kuroka grabbed her face. “You’re late, you sll like lightning, and you look like you fought God again.”
“I might’ve,” Hespera said casually. “Technically a tree-god, but still counts.”
Nyx appeared behind Kuroka, arms crossed. “Did you at least win?”
“Define win,” Hespera said.
“The world didn’t explode?”
“Then yeah,” Hespera said, grinning. “Total victory.”
Ophis tilted her head. “Tree stable?”
“Rooted,” Hespera said. “Lucifer’s soul is the core now. He’ll be fine. Probably cranky, but fine.”
Kuroka blinked. “You shoved your brother’s soul in a tree?”
“Best fertilizer I had,” Hespera said.
Nyx sighed. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Thank you.”
Ophis looked mildly impressed. “You used Paradox Genesis again.”
“Yep.”
“That’s reckless.”
“Yep.”
“Will you do it again?”
“Probably.”
Kuroka groaned, grabbing her by the arm. “You’re impossible, nya.”
Hespera leaned in close, voice low and teasing. “That’s what you like about .”
Kuroka’s tail twitched. “No comnt.”
~☆~
The rest of the household was gathered in the courtyard by the ti she got back. Rias was the first to speak. “So… the world’s not ending?”
“Not today,” Hespera said. “Tree’s fine. Pollution’s gone. Nature’s rebooting. The air even slls less like despair.”
Sirzechs pinched the bridge of his nose. “You terrify .”
“Complint accepted,” Hespera said.
Akeno stepped forward. “What about the cause of the corruption?”
Hespera snorted. “Humans. Races. Everyone who ever thought dumping oil in oceans or building nuclear weapons near ley lines was a good idea. The tree got tired of being patient. I just hit the reset button before it threw another tantrum.”
Koneko blinked. “You scolded the planet.”
“I’m multitalented,” Hespera said.
Rias folded her arms. “And what happens now?”
“I sit down,” Hespera said. “Because my wings feel like soone stapled thunderbolts to them.”
Kuroka guided her toward the fountain, muttering, “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
“I’m aware,” Hespera said, settling onto the edge. “Now soone bring tea before I accidentally reboot the moon.”
Rias sighed but nodded to Akeno, who hurried off.
Nyx leaned against the wall. “You used Paradox Genesis twice in a week. You realize that’s—”
“Insane?” Hespera finished. “Yeah. That’s the brand.”
Ophis stood beside her, silent for a long mont. Then she said, “You did well.”
“Don’t say that,” Hespera said quickly. “People will expect consistency.”
Kuroka curled against her side, tail looping lazily around her waist. “You’re going to rest now, right?”
“Define rest,” Hespera said.
“Not moving.”
“That sounds boring.”
“Living,” Kuroka countered.
Hespera tilted her head, pretending to think. “Fine. Five minutes.”
Nyx smiled faintly. “Progress, I guess.”
Rias muttered, “She’s like a cosmic toddler.”
“I heard that,” Hespera said, eyes still closed.
~☆~
The night stretched on quietly. No divine explosions, no earthquakes. Just laughter from the house, the sll of food, and the faint hum of the reborn Yggdrasil miles away.
Hespera leaned back, letting Kuroka’s warmth and Nyx’s presence settle her chaos energy. Her eyelids grew heavy.
Kuroka whispered, “You okay?”
Hespera smiled without opening her eyes. “Yeah. For once, the universe isn’t on fire.”
“Don’t jinx it,” Nyx said dryly.
Hespera’s lips twitched. “Please. I am the jinx.”
~☆~
Sowhere far below them, at the base of the great tree, the gemstone heart pulsed. Lucifer’s soul — cleansed, crystallized, and now part of the world’s root — stirred faintly.
If he could speak, he’d probably swear.
If he could move, he’d probably flip his sister off.
But for now, he just glowed, quietly annoyed and begrudgingly at peace — which, for Lucifer Morningstar, was a miracle.
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