beaslays: ([SMT] Argyle Love)
[personal profile] beaslays
Title: To the Edge of the Earth
Fandom: Shin Megami Tensei Nocturne, Shin Megami Tensei II
Characters: Lucifer, Beelzebub, Hitoshura, Raidou, Aleph, Michael, random demons
Pairing: Louis/Aleph
Genre: Angst, Drama
Word Count: 1116
Rating: T
Warnings: Character death, war-based situation, mentions of demons being demons, brainwashing, some violence
Summary: The Angels play their trump card in the Final War. It doesn't go as well as they expect, not when said trump card is the only man Lucifer ever loved.
Notes: I blame Hezza for this. Also this fic is rambly, slightly incoherent, is rushed, and is the foundation for something bigger I plan to write later. It's set post True Demon Ending of Nocturne, during the Final War.


Whatever the Angels had been planning, it had not been enough to turn the tides of war. With Hitoshura at Lucifer's side, bringing the fight to the gates of heaven had been easy. Overrun, and taken by surprise, the Angels could do nothing but retreat to the innermost palace.

Victory was at hand. At Raidou's insistence the Generals of the Abyss met for one last time, standing or floating in a circle. They were getting impatient, restless. The past few cycles had been nothing but waiting and tactics and strategy and then a burst of fighting and then waiting again. They were here. They were at the enemy's doorstep. All they had to do was push, and it would be over. The war would truly be theirs.

"They will be desperate," warned Raidou, though he knew most of them were too impatient to listen. "Just as we are ready to give them our all, they will be ready to return the favor."

He had barely finished his words when an explosion blossomed in the distance, punctuated by the screams of dying demons. Without a moment's hesitation, the generals of the abyss moved out, taking their posts, spreading out as the survivors of the attack began to appear.

For the second time since the Fall, a complete silence fell upon the demons of the Abyss.

Lucifer saw fit to break it, striding out of his metaphysical tent, in full demonic glory, and into their midst. The crowd of demons parted for him.

"The Angels can do nothing to stop us. We press on," he said, voice booming through the camp. The demons remained silent.

"Lord Lucifer -" Beelzebub, shoved forward by the rest of the demonic horde. "We have. A slight. complication."

More explosions filled the air, in the distance.

"What is it?"

"Well, the Hitoshura iz fighting said complication right now -"

"What is it?"

"Iz - Iz..." Beelzebub hesitated a moment longer, whether because he knew he was in for a world of hurt if Lucifer reacted badly to the news, or because he actually cared about how the news would affect said demon lord, no one would ever know. "It's Aleph."


They'd been fighting for - well, Shura wasn't keeping track. All he knew was attack, dodge, defend, attack, dodge, attack, defend. Attack again. It didn't bother him, not in the least, he lived for this kind of life, he lived for this sort of fight. The bloodshed and the endless battles of the final war had been to his utmost liking.

No holding back, no barriers. He didn't question the things that he saw, the things he did, what orders he were given.

But the explosions had come, and at their center, surrounded by the bodies of dead demons, stood a human.

No, Shura had corrected himself, not a human.

Because humans didn't fight like this. They didn't wield bombs infused with holy power, they didn't have eyes that flashed blue and white, or swords that glowed in similar colors.

His opponent wasn't human, couldn't be. It was a mere copy of one, a facsimile of what made man precisely that - man. Created by the angels, Shura was certain of it, a last ditch effort to stop the demons. So far they had been successful, driving back the demons in this area, killing more than sparing them.

And Shura, for all that he had done as a demon, no matter how much of his humanity he had shed, found this - this pawn of the angels an insult.

He had charged at the other, and the facsimile, still silent, had done the same.


Lucifer alights, massive frame and wings casting the area in shadow. The combatants below do not notice him, taking no heed of his presence. They fight.

A moment later, and Lucifer's form has changed, twisting in on itself, shadows rising from the clouds beneath their feet, an impenetrable coat of change.

Louis Cyphre steps out, and clears his throat.

Hitoshura breaks off from the fight, dodging a slash, then whirling away, towards the gentleman at the edge of their makeshift arena.

"Lucifer -"

The blonde gentleman steps past the bewildered Hitoshura, towards the revived Messiah.

"Aleph." It's an old name, and Louis says it as though he's been saying it everyday for the past millions of cycles. A familiar name on his tongue, and filled with as much affection as one might find in the voice of the devil. The revived Messiah goes still, sword still in hand, flashing eyes casting their gaze on him.

"What have they done to you?"

He knows, of course. He knows exactly what the angels have done, can see it just from the way Aleph moves, the way suffering courses through him, silent as he may be.

The Aleph before him is not the Aleph he remembers. There is no spark in those eyes. Nothing that made Aleph whom he was.

Another copy, another recreation.

He knows what the angels have done, and they will pay.

Lucifer will make them pay.

He reaches out, touches Aleph's cheek, feels the cold that crawls up his arm. Not a single whisper of the warmth they had once shared with each other.

"Why do you falter, Aleph?" A voice, from above. Lucifer does not need to look to know whom it belongs to.

Lucifer has nothing to say to Michael - in the next moment he has returned to his most demonic form, snarling, slamming the surprised Archangel to the ground with one clawed hand.



Afterwards, when heaven is silent, when the battles are through and there is only the self. When the demons have spread and taken their fill of what remained of the angels -

After the war is won -

Louis watches as Aleph's eyes turn dark, feels the warmth return to the pale skin, and the Messiah smiles. It's a smile that carries the burden of millions of cycles without rest.

Louis looks into those old, old eyes, and sees straight into Aleph's soul.

He imagines, for a moment, keeping Aleph here with him, forever. It'll be like before. Before all this, before the Messiah's fall. When it was sometimes just the two of them, caught in a dance of flesh and unspoken affection, and sometimes more than just that. When they could ignore what they both knew was rushing towards them, when they could ignore it all and maybe pretend they had only each other to care about.

They have forever now.

He knows it'll be nothing like before.

It can never be anything like before.

"Rest now," he murmurs, and Aleph closes his eyes for the first time in cycles.

And later, after the celebrations are over, after everyone finally leaves him be once more, after decisions are made and everything necessary is done -

After it all...

He takes a moment to stand at the edge of the new world, and Lucifer casts the dust that once was Aleph into the waiting creation.

And he knows then for whom the fight has truly been all along.


October 2015


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