The Black House, Master Bedroom
Later that night, the master bedroom of the Black House had become a battlefield.
Not the fun kind with explosions and fireballs.
The worse kind.
The married kind.
Solo paced back and forth, hands in his head, eyes wide with disbelief.
"We've been married for more than eighty years," he said, voice cracking, "and this is the first time I'm hearing about this?! Not cool, Lilith, this is not cool at all."
Lilith sat on the edge of the bed, covering her face as tears leaked through her fingers.
"I'm sorry, honey," she sobbed. "I—I promised my dad I'd follow that tradition in exchange for his blessing for our marriage…"
Solo stopped pacing and stared at the floor.
"Even more reason for me to know," he said slowly, exhausted, "there's two of us in this marriage. You and me!"
Lilith sniffed. Hard.
"When I talked to him on the phone," she said, wiping her eyes, "I also thought it was already done when you united the Demon Kingdom. I really did. But he said it didn't count."
Solo's shoulders slumped.
"Didn't… count?"
"He said you were doing it for yourself," Lilith whispered. "Not for me. Not for the baby."
Solo dropped onto the bed with a heavy sigh.
"Shiit…" he groaned, burying his face in his hands. "And this happens right when our enemy is about to pull something fishy too…"
Lilith's guilt detonated.
"I–I'm sorrrryyy," she wailed, collapsing forward. "HUAAAAAAAAAA—"
But then—
Solo suddenly moved.
He leaned in and silenced her cries with a kiss.
Lilith froze for half a second, brain rebooting, then melted into it, kissing him back slowly, finding comfort on Solo kisses.
Solo pulled back, resting his forehead against hers.
"Lilith, my love," he said softly. "I'm not confused because I don't want to do it."
She looked up at him, eyes trembling.
"I'm confused because I don't know how to do it nicely."
"S–so?" she whispered. "You're… you're gonna do it?"
"Of course."
Solo smiled, showing a confident reckless.
"If it's for you and the baby, I'll do anything."
Then he shrugged.
"Besides, what's the worst that can happen? I'm weak, but I'm basically immortal. Statistically, I can do anything."
Lilith let out a shaky laugh through her tears. "A-and the government?"
"Don't worry," Solo said, "We and the others will find a way. We always do."
"But…" Lilith clutched his shirt, voice breaking again. "I still feel bad…"
Solo looked at her with pity. A genuine pity.
Then—
It happened.
His eyes widened slightly.
A spark.
A thought.
A bad thought.
"W–well," he said carefully, voice suddenly too calm, "if you still feel bad… then maybe…"
Lilith blinked. "Maybe…?"
Solo leaned in and whispered into her ear.
Her eyes exploded open.
"WHAT?!" she yelped, jerking back. "On Demon Queen form?!"
She glared at him with full fury.
"I–I mean," Solo said quickly, holding up his hands in surrender, "it would make me very happy. Emotionally. Spiritually. Probably physically."
Lilith wanted to be angry.
She really did.
But instead, she hesitated.
Her glare slowly softened… and she turned away, eyes unfocused, thinking deeply.
Very, very deeply.
---
The Black House, Front Lawn
Meanwhile, on the front lawn, the party continued in glorious decay.
The demons and dwarves who had nearly started a war over grilling techniques earlier were now drunk, arm-in-arm, singing off-key songs that had no clear melody, rhythm, or mercy. Someone had lost a shoe. Nobody cared. Every cup was full. Every brain was empty.
It was perfect.
Near the fireplace, Sam and Death sat side by side of the crackling flames, each holding a beer.
Sam stared into the fire, his expression heavy and thoughtful.
"You were never the type to care about tradition," Death said casually, taking a sip. "Didn't you used to say all that stuff was outdated back when you were young?"
"It is…" Sam replied, still staring into the flames. "But when you're about to become a grandfather… things change."
He paused, then took a slow drink.
"This tradition isn't about control," Sam said quietly. "It's about priority. If everything he built starts crumbling… if all his ambitions fall apart…"
The fire popped.
"Would he still choose my daughter? Would he still protect my grandchild… even if it means sacrificing his own goals?"
Death smiled faintly at that.
"Heh," she said, "you should've just told them that earlier, Sam."
"Nah." Sam shook his head. "I believe in Solo. I know he'll do right by Lilith."
His eyes lifted toward the glowing window of the master bedroom, gaze heavy with expectation.
Death watched him, then sighed and shook her head, smiling.
"You boys really need to learn how to be honest with each other," she muttered. "Just show him what you feel."
"Grr…"
Suddenly, Sam's voice dropped into a low growl.
Veins bulged on his forehead. His grip tightened around the bottle, glass creaking ominously.
Death turned slowly. "What's wrong with you now?"
"I can feel a ridiculous amount of male impure thought coming from their bedroom," Sam snarled, an energy ball already forming in his hand. "How dare he do that to my emberpie while I'm still around. You're right, maybe I should show him my feelings now. Directly."
"No."
Death calmly reached out, grabbed the back of his clothes, and yanked him down.
"You're not showing anything tonight," she said flatly.
---
Bashington DC, Nearby Wasteland
A few days later, the wasteland outside Bashington DC had been quietly reserved for something that absolutely should not be done in public.
Lilith stood in the middle of the empty wasteland, stretching calmly in gym clothes like she was about to attend a yoga class instead of a sanctioned demon brawl. Across her stood Pestilence and War. While Sam, Lich, and Bub watching from the sidelines. At a respectful distance, Secret Service agents and Murican staff formed a wide perimeter.
Pestilence and War were already warming up in front of Lilith. War cracked his neck loudly. Pestilence cracked his back and immediately regretted it.
Lilith paused mid-stretch and glanced around.
"What's Bub and Lich doing here?" she muttered.
"I'm collecting battle data," Bub replied flatly, watching his staff set up cameras under a tent like they were filming a nature documentary. "That last Archangel we defeated fought almost exactly like a demon duke. I'd like to confirm the pattern."
"I'm here because Uncle Pes asked me to come," Lich added, hands in pockets, voice empty of enthusiasm.
Lilith blinked. "So… I'm just supposed to fight Uncle Pes and Uncle War until I get rid of all this extra emotion and energy?"
"That's right, emberpie," Sam said from the sidelines, arms crossed. "Both of them are strong enough to handle you."
"No need to hold back, Lilith!" War shouted, already glowing with excitement. "Give us everything you've got!"
"Please don't say that," Pestilence muttered, rubbing his lower back. "We're not that young anymore…"
Everyone waited.
Wind blew.
Sand rolled dramatically.
Lilith didn't move.
She just stood there, staring at War and Pestilence. No transformation. No aura. No Demon Queen form. Nothing.
"Emberpie?" Sam called out. "What's wrong?"
Lilith tilted her head, genuinely confused.
"Uhh… I don't know, Dad," she said slowly. "I just… don't feel like fighting. I don't feel anything when I see Uncle War and Uncle Pes."
"Oh," Lich muttered beside Sam. "So as long as Lilith doesn't see Solo, her killing urge doesn't resurface."
Sam scratched his head, thinking.
"Hm. That's a problem," he said. "It's not healthy for the baby if the mother doesn't get any exercise."
He sighed, glancing toward the horizon.
"And my son-in-law can't help at all in this matter."
---
They took a break under the tent, sitting around a folding table like a family picnic. Cold drinks sweated onto the plastic surface. Snacks disappeared at an alarming speed.
Lilith kicked her feet lightly, sipping juice.
"Is there anyone here you feel like fighting, emberpie?" Sam asked, voice low and thoughtful.
"Uh… not really, Dad," Lilith called back, chewing. "Sorry…"
Bub sipped into his iced tea. "If only Luke was here."
"Hm," Lilith muttered, eyes narrowing slightly. "If it's Luke… yeah, I can imagine pounding him."
"Oh, that brat is still alive?" Sam asked casually. "Does he still live in that ugly castle?"
"Yeah," Lilith nodded. "Why, Dad?"
Sam stood up. "Let me ask him if he can help us."
He put two fingers to his forehead.
ZIP
In the blink of an eye, Sam vanished from his chair, leaving a faint shockwave and a very confused silence behind him.
"What the—?!" Bub jumped to his feet. "Where did he go!?"
"To pick up that brat Luke, I think," War said calmly, opening another drink.
"To Hellicon Valley?!" Bub yelled. "That far!? Can he teleport?!"
"No, no," Pestilence waved lazily, sipping. "Teleportation isn't real. He's just moving very, very fast."
Bub slowly sat back down, visibly relieved.
"Oh thank goodness," he said. "For a second I thought teleportation was real."
"What's wrong with that?" Lich asked.
"Because sci-fi stuff like that is my dream," Bub replied seriously. "I can't accept it if someone invents teleportation before me. Especially if I'm not the one who does it."
"You're still petty as usual," Pestilence sighed.
ZIP
Sam reappeared suddenly, standing right where he had been.
"Sigh… that distance is actually very tiring," Sam said, rolling his shoulder.
Everyone stared.
In his hand, Sam was holding a body like luggage.
"Uh… Dad?" Lilith said carefully. "Is that…?"
"Oh? Yeah. I managed to persuade Luke. He'll help us," Sam said casually.
The body lifted its head.
"Ugh… hi guys," Luke said weakly, smiling.
He was covered in bruises. Everywhere. Face, arms, wings. Even his pride looked damaged.
Sam dropped him.
THUD
"GAAH!" Luke yelped as he hit the sand.
He landed near Lich and Pestilence.
"Dad," Lilith said slowly, "you beat Luke that fast?"
"Of course," Sam said proudly. "I'm getting older, not weaker. Now go on, Lilith—use him as your sparring partner."
Lich crouched, lifted Luke's hand, then let go.
The arm dropped limply.
Pestilence did the same with the other.
Same result.
"He's unconscious," Lich concluded. "I don't think he can spar with anyone for a while."
Sam stared down at Luke.
"…Sigh."
---
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