Gabriel flicked his eyes toward Raphael—a quick, sharp glance loaded with pure "you absolute idiot" energy. Raphael flinched just a little, wings drooping like a kid caught sneaking cookies.
Still, Gabriel turned back to Father Black, voice calm but clipped.
"How long until your fighters are ready to face Heaven’s warriors?"
Father Black spread his hands, all wide-eyed innocence.
"Well, as your brother so kindly pointed out, humans are trash. Super slow. You know how it is—we’ve gotta grow our young, train them, let them hit puberty, maybe send them to college..."
Gabriel cut in, deadpan. "You have fifty years."
Father Black snapped back instantly, grinning. "One hundred."
Gabriel didn’t even blink. "Deal."
Father Black raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised it was that easy.
Gabriel shrugged, wings shifting. "A hundred years is an eternity to mortals. To us? It’s barely a long weekend."
Father Black chuckled. "Yeah, I figured."
Then he spun toward the distant throne on the dead sun, cupping a hand to his mouth like he was shouting across a bar.
"Hey, Morningstar! You good waiting a hundred years?"
Lucifer leaned back, stretching lazily, one leg slung over the throne’s arm again. His eyes moved to Gabriel, and then to Fathet Black.
A knowing appeared in his mind.
"I waited hundreds of thousands of years just to get my wings back," he called, voice bright and carefree. "A asly century? I’ll barely notice."
However Seraphina by his side asked in a whisper. "My lord, are sure? You have waited so long for this."
However he pointed at the host of angels. "Seraphina, are you confident in handling them?"
Her brows frowned. "The battle in heaven is not one I am find of. But with your annointing we have also beco stronger. Still..." she paused, eyes locating Michael’s sword.
If there was an obstacle to their success, then it would be that sword.
Which Lucifer’s Holy Tool, Anguis was one made to steal, destroy power and create new life, Michael’s Holy tool served only one purpose.
And that was to totally annihilate from existence.
It was probably the strongest Holy tool on the universe.
It was for this reason that it was called forbidden.
She did not know what lucifer was planning, but she knew her master always had sothing cooking.
He would not delay by 100 years without sothing in mind.
Father Black nodded, satisfied. "Then it’s a done deal."
Gabriel turned to Michael. The archangel’s jaw was tight, but he didn’t argue. With a sharp bite to his own thumb, golden ichor welled up, gleaming like liquid sunlight. It floated forward, weaving itself into glowing lines of text—a brand-new heavenly contract hanging in the void.
Father Black skimd it quickly, lips moving as he read the fine print. Then, without ceremony, he bit his own thumb. Crimson blood dripped out, swirling into the golden script, sealing the terms with a soft flash of light.
Contract signed.
~Sanguis Foedus~ The Blood pact.
Witnessed by the cosmos itself.
He drifted over to the massive infernal monolith still hovering nearby. Fresh clauses had already etched themselves across its surface—updated terms reflecting the new three-way tournant structure.
Father Black pressed his bloody thumb to it once more.
A low, resonant hum rolled through the void.
~Sanguis Foedus~
The deal with Lucifer was sealed too.
Everything was official.
The countdown vanished.
For the first ti in a week, the space around Earth felt... quiet.
Lucifer’s laughter tapered off into a thoughtful hum. He straightened on his throne, wings folding neatly, and raised his voice one last ti—smooth, and tempting
"Regent," he called across the void, "one final offer. Join , and I’ll let the old sun shine again. Warm light, golden mornings, the whole nostalgic package. Earth gets its star back. What do you say?"
Father Black didn’t even turn around fully. He just waved a lazy hand over his shoulder, like swatting away a fly.
"Keep it," he said cheerfully. "We’ve already upgraded."
As if the universe itself had been waiting for the cue, a brilliant azure glow blood along Earth’s horizon.
A new sun. It was smaller than the old one, but radiant and impossibly blue—rose slowly into view, bathing the planet in cool, vibrant light. Oceans shimred turquoise. Clouds caught sapphire highlights. Day returned to Earth, brighter and stranger than before.
Everyone—absolutely everyone—froze.
Perseus’s jaw dropped. Even blind Athena turned. Odin actually muttered, "Well I’ll be damned."
Even Michael and Gabriel stared, wings forgotten mid-flare.
Lucifer’s easy grin vanished. A genuine frown creased his perfect brow as he leaned forward, squinting at the impossible blue star.
Back near Earth, the truth clicked for a few of Father Black’s inner circle.
Nikky, safely aboard one of Lenny’s hidden orbital stations, had just cracked open a certain gift-wrapped box on Father Black’s exact instructions.
Inside? A pocket-sized star, courtesy of Hell’s royal forges.
One press of a rune, and poof—the new was sun deployed.
Of Course no other person knew that itvwas the king of earth taking care of his own.
Earth had daylight again. Better daylight.
Father Black spun gracefully in the void and started flying ho, his team falling in behind him like a victory parade.
As they descended through the atmosphere, a voice crackled over their private comms—rich, amused, and very female.
"Old man," Tomato drawled from her moon-sized warship hanging in high orbit, "if I wasn’t already stupidly in love with Lenny, I’d marry you on the spot."
Deter, gliding beside Father Black, imdiately bristled. She clutched her blouse tighter and shot a possessive glance around, as if daring anyone to agree.
"He’s taken," she muttered, half-proud, half-annoyed. "Very taken."
The rest of the team burst into warm laughter—Perseus, Athena, Crusher, Kanada, even stoic Alexander cracking a grin. Just a few weeks ago, they’d been staring down total extinction. Now?
A hundred-year reprieve, a brand-new sun, and Heaven accidentally scheduled for a preliminary beatdown.
They touched down on Earth to absolute pandemonium.
Cities erupted in cheers. Screens everywhere replayed the entire negotiation on loop—Father Black’s smirks, Raphael’s ltdown, Lucifer’s laughter, the blue sun rising like a mic drop.
Streets filled with people waving handmade banners:
FATHER BLACK IS GOAT
100 YEARS OF HOPE
OLD MAN > ARCHANGELS
THANK YOU REGENT
Kids ran around with blue face paint, pretending to be the new sun. Social dia exploded with s—Father Black photoshopped as a chess grandmaster, Raphael labeled "Emotional Damage," Lucifer clutching pearls.
In bars and hos, strangers hugged and toasted.
"Did you see how he played them? Like puppets!"
"Man tricked Heaven into fighting itself first. Legend."
"We’ve got ti now—real ti. A whole century to get strong."
Scientists were already planning orbital mirrors to optimize the blue spectrum. Farrs celebrated the gentler light. Artists went wild over the new color palette in the sky.
Historians, years later, would mark this exact mont as the spark of Earth’s Greatest Age of Growth—an era of explosive advancent, unity, and power unlike anything before.
But right now, it was just pure, roaring joy.
Father Black landed in the capital square, waved once to the roaring crowd, then slipped away before anyone could hoist him on their shoulders.
He had work to do.
One hundred years wasn’t going to train itself.
(Author’s note: Co on now, you can clap. And send gifts too thank you. 😆)
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