Lucifer, But I'm Not The Devil

Lucifer and Sariel collided again, their fists meeting in a bone-shaking clash of sheer force. The room trembled with every impact, as if the very penthouse was protesting the violence of their reunion. The brothers' movements were fluid but brutal, each strike fueled by centuries of resentment, pain, and unspoken words.

Lucifer ducked beneath Sariel's wide swing, his body twisting with practiced precision. His foot slid forward, planting firmly as his left fist shot upward in a sharp uppercut aimed at Sariel's ribcage. The hit landed with a satisfying thud, and Sariel staggered, his breath catching for a moment before he recovered.

"Is that all you've got?" Sariel growled, spitting out a thin line of blood as he straightened. His smirk returned, defiant and mocking. The corners of his mouth twitched with amusement, though his eyes burned with unyielding rage.

Lucifer's lips curled into a snarl, his teeth bared like a wolf ready to pounce. "Not even close," he hissed, his voice rough from exertion. He feinted left, then spun sharply, driving his elbow into Sariel's jaw. The impact snapped Sariel's head to the side, but he recovered almost instantly, his laughter low and menacing.

"Still predictable," Sariel muttered, catching Lucifer's wrist mid-strike and twisting it with brutal efficiency. Lucifer's body arched as pain shot up his arm, but his free hand came up in retaliation, slamming into Sariel's gut. The force drove the air from Sariel's lungs, and his grip loosened just enough for Lucifer to wrench himself free.

The room was a whirlwind of motion—Lucifer's fluid aggression countered by Sariel's calculated strikes. Their expressions were mirrors of their emotions: Lucifer's face twisted in pure fury, his jaw clenched so tightly that veins pulsed along his neck. Sariel, on the other hand, wore a grin that seemed almost too calm, but his narrowed eyes betrayed the seething wrath underneath.

Their breathing grew heavier, each inhalation sharp and strained. Blood trickled from the corner of Sariel's mouth, and a dark bruise was beginning to bloom along Lucifer's cheekbone. Yet neither seemed to notice—or care. Their world had shrunk to the space between them, a battlefield of fists and fury where nothing else mattered.

Sariel lashed out with a swift kick aimed at Lucifer's knee, but Lucifer anticipated the move, sidestepping with a dancer's grace. His hand shot forward, grabbing Sariel's collar, and with a roar, he threw his brother across the room. Sariel's back collided with the sleek marble bar, bottles shattering and spilling their contents across the floor.

Sariel groaned as he pushed himself upright, shards of glass crunching beneath his feet. He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing blood across his jawline. His smirk remained, though it was tinged with a grim satisfaction now.

"Still the dramatic one, aren't you?" he mocked, his voice hoarse but steady.

Lucifer advanced, his chest heaving with exertion. "You always did like pushing me," he spat, his eyes blazing with raw emotion. "But you've never learned when to stop."

They met again in the center of the room, fists flying in a flurry of blows. The impact of their strikes echoed like thunder, the force sending shockwaves through the air. Neither held back now, their punches landing with sickening thuds against flesh and bone.

Lucifer's knuckles were split, blood dripping onto the marble floor as he drove a punishing hook into Sariel's side. Sariel grunted, his body buckling slightly, but he retaliated with a vicious headbutt that sent Lucifer staggering. The younger twin's nose bled freely now, the crimson streaks adding to the growing carnage between them.

The elevator dinged softly in the background, but the brothers didn't stop. Sariel grabbed Lucifer by the shoulders, slamming him into the wall with enough force to crack the plaster. He leaned in close, his voice a low snarl. "You've never understood, Lucifer. You're not better than me. You never were."

Lucifer's eyes blazed, his lip curling in contempt. "And you've never stopped being jealous." With a burst of strength, he shoved Sariel off him, the older twin stumbling back just as the elevator doors slid open.

The sound of heels clicking against the marble floor brought both of them to a sudden halt. Their bloodied faces turned toward the elevator, their breaths ragged and uneven.

There, standing in the doorway, was their mother—the Goddess herself. Her once regal appearance was marred by exhaustion, her hair disheveled, and her normally radiant complexion pale. Yet her eyes still held the same commanding presence that could silence even the fiercest storms.

Her gaze swept over them, taking in their battered forms and the destruction around them. Her lips parted as though she meant to speak, but no words came. Instead, she stretched out her trembling hands toward them, her expression a mixture of longing and despair.

"My boys..." she whispered, her voice barely audible before her knees buckled.

Lucifer and Sariel lunged forward in unison, their rivalry forgotten in an instant. They caught her before she hit the ground, their hands supporting her fragile frame. For the first time in centuries, they looked at each other not with anger, but with shared, unspoken concern.

As their mother lay unconscious in their arms, the silence between them was heavy, but the fight was over. For now.