Blade's consciousness swam back to the surface, his eyelids fluttering open to reveal eyes blackened and swollen from the brutal fight. Gone was the desolate landscape of Rune, replaced by an environment that defied mortal comprehension. Before him stood not Shiba, but a being whose very presence radiated malevolence—Satan, the Devil, most commonly known as Lucifer.

Beside the Prince of Darkness stood a figure introduced as Apostle, already directing demonic minions to drag away the battered forms of Birman and Burmilla. Blade, his body a tapestry of bruises and wounds, struggled to his feet. Despite his dire situation, defiance burned in his eyes as he addressed the beings before him.

"Who dares interrupt my battle?" Blade demanded, his voice hoarse but unwavering. "Send me back! I must finish my foe and avenge my people!"

Lucifer's laughter echoed through the infernal chamber, a sound that would have sent most mortals cowering in terror. Yet Blade stood his ground, meeting the Devil's gaze without a hint of fear. Intrigued by the young Nekonian's audacity, Lucifer cocked his head to one side.

"And who might you be?" Blade asked, his curiosity piqued by this new potential enemy.

Lucifer's response came not in words, but in a terrifying display of power. Without warning, hellfire erupted from his eyes, engulfing Blade in an inferno of pain. The young Nekonian's screams echoed through the chamber as agony unlike anything he had ever experienced coursed through his body. This was Lucifer's answer—power incarnate, pain given form, the ultimate adversary against which even the mightiest warriors were but insects to be crushed.

As Blade writhed on the ground, his mind reeling from the assault, he began to grasp the gravity of his situation. He had been plucked from one battlefield only to find himself thrust into a war beyond mortal comprehension. The fate of his people, his quest for vengeance against Shiba, even his own survival—all now hung in the balance of powers he could scarcely fathom.

Blade's vision blurred as he struggled to focus on the figure before him. His body screamed in agony, but he forced himself to stand, defiance etched into every line of his battered form. The figure lifted him effortlessly by the neck, bringing him face-to-face with the embodiment of evil itself—Lucifer.

Lucifer's eyes gleamed with a malevolent light as he spoke, his voice a dark symphony of power and seduction. "From now on, I will be your father," he declared, his grip tightening around Blade's throat. "You will become my child, a prince of Hell, an heir to a dark legacy far beyond the scope of your Nekonian empire."

Lucifer's lips curled into a cruel smile as he continued, "Your people understood part of the truth—that strength dictates supremacy. But that alone is not enough." His grip tightened slightly, emphasizing his words. "Serve me well, and not only will you have your revenge against Shiba, but you'll rule the very multiverse itself in my name."

Despite the pain, Blade managed a laugh, his voice raw but defiant. "I don't care about ruling the multiverse," he spat. "I want revenge for my people. And if I were to rule, it would be for myself, not for you."

Lucifer's laughter echoed through the infernal chamber, a sound both chilling and amused. "Is that so?" he murmured, his eyes narrowing. Without warning, hellfire erupted from his gaze, engulfing Blade in a torrent of searing pain. The young Nekonian's scream filled the air as the fire consumed him, each wave of agony more intense than the last.

Lucifer released his grip, letting Blade collapse to the ground. The Devil's expression was one of dark satisfaction as he watched the young warrior struggle to rise. "Remember this pain," Lucifer said softly. "It is but a taste of what awaits those who defy me. Serve me well, and you will have your revenge. Fail, and you will suffer for all eternity."

Blade's body trembled with the effort of standing, but his spirit remained unbroken. He met Lucifer's gaze with unwavering defiance, the fire in his eyes undimmed by the hellish torment he had endured. The path before him was fraught with peril, but he knew one thing with absolute certainty: he would not bow to anyone, not even the Devil himself.

As Lucifer turned away, directing Apostle to take the other Nekonians to their new quarters, Blade's mind raced with thoughts of escape and vengeance. The journey ahead would be long and treacherous, but he was determined to see it through. For his people, for his fallen comrades, and for the promise of a future where he would stand as a true ruler—on his own terms.

Blade and Burmilla were dragged through the infernal corridors to the Apostle's care center, a grim institution where, alongside other captive children from across the cosmos, were subjected to relentless torture, training, and indoctrination. Here, they would be molded into loyal servants of Lucifer, their spirits broken and reshaped to serve the dark lord's will.

The air was thick with screams and the acrid smell of fear as the children endured daily tortures disguised as training. Each day brought new challenges, new pain, all intended to strip away their former identities and replace them with unwavering devotion to the Prince of Darkness.

Birman, being a year older, initially faced a different fate. Lucifer had first decreed that he would serve as a slave, a common enough destiny in the infernal realm. However, the Dark Lord's cruel mind soon conjured a more entertaining use for the young Nekonian.

"The gladiatorial pits," Lucifer mused, his eyes glowing with malicious glee. "Yes, a Nekonian warrior there would provide... most interesting results."

When Birman, relief evident in his voice, thanked Lucifer for this opportunity, the fallen angel's mood shifted instantly. In a blur of motion too fast for mortal eyes to follow, Lucifer seized Birman's tail.

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"You misunderstand your place, little one," Lucifer growled, his voice dripping with contempt. With a sickening wrench, he tore the tail from Birman's body. "You are not a warrior. You are not a Nekonian. You are merely a tool, an extension of my will."

Birman collapsed to the ground, his agonized screams echoing through the chamber as blood pooled around him. The pain was all-encompassing, a tsunami of agony that threatened to sweep away his very sense of self.

As he lay there, broken and bleeding, Birman realized that his ordeal was far from over. This was merely the beginning of a transformation that would test the very limits of his being. Lucifer ordered Apostle to create a new tail for Birman

Burmilla's world had shrunk to the confines of a dank, lightless cell. Her small body, once lithe and strong, now hung limply from chains that bit into her wrists. Time lost all meaning in this place of endless torment, where hunger gnawed at her very being with an intensity that defied description.

The Apostle would sometimes visit, his presence a twisted mockery of comfort. On one such occasion, he leaned close, his breath hot against her ear as he whispered a cruel truth: her little brother Neko, named for their lost homeworld, still lived. He had been sent off-world on a training mission before Shiba's devastating attack.

This knowledge ignited a spark of hope in Burmilla's heart, a fragile flame that burned brightly in the darkness of her despair. She clung to the image of her little brother, imagining him growing strong, preparing to rescue his siblings from this infernal prison.

But hope, in this place of endless torment, was a dangerous thing. Burmilla's outbursts of longing for her brother were met with ever-longer periods of starvation. As the days stretched into weeks, her mind began to fracture under the relentless assault of hunger and isolation.

Slowly, inexorably, that once-bright hope twisted into something darker. Resentment festered in her heart, a poisonous bloom that spread through her thoughts. Why had Neko been given a chance at a better life on Earth while she languished in Hell? The love she once felt for her little brother curdled into a bitter hatred.

Blade trained with a singular focus, pushing his body to the brink of collapse. His knuckles bled, his legs trembled with exhaustion, and his mind conjured cruel hallucinations from the lack of sleep. Yet, he continued, driven by a relentless determination. Lucifer watched with a twisted satisfaction, molding the boy into a weapon more formidable than any Nekonian in history.

Despite the grueling regimen, Blade refused to break. He feigned loyalty, but his true allegiance remained with his own goals: vengeance against Shiba and, now, against Lucifer himself. Each day, he would attempt to kill Lucifer, and each day, Lucifer would beat him to the edge of death before sending him back to train.

"You are not the Nekonian prince," Lucifer would taunt, his voice dripping with contempt. "You are the son of Lucifer. You are not the heir to a lowly race; you are a slave to my will.".

Despite the relentless torment, Blade refused to yield. With each passing day, he could feel his strength growing, his resolve hardening. The legend of the Tiger Nekonian burned bright in his mind, a beacon of hope in the darkness of his existence. If the prophecy was mere fiction, why would Lucifer expend such effort to break him? This thought alone sustained Blade through the endless cycles of pain and training, even as his fellow Nekonians succumbed to Lucifer's will.

Then came the day that changed everything. As Blade launched his daily assassination attempt, he was met with an unexpected lack of resistance. Lucifer stood motionless, allowing the young Nekonian's attack to land true. For a brief, surreal moment, Blade stood frozen in disbelief, his mind struggling to process what had just transpired.

As the first flicker of joy in years began to spark in his heart, a voice whispered in his mind, two simple words that shattered his world: "Foolish child."

In that instant, the true nature of his adversary crashed down upon Blade with the weight of cosmic revelation. Lucifer was not merely a tyrant to be overthrown or a foe to be surpassed. He was beyond the very concept of death, an eternal force woven into the fabric of existence itself.

Blade's knees buckled beneath him as the horrifying truth sank in. No amount of training could ever bridge this insurmountable gap. Lucifer was not just an entity, but the embodiment of every dark thought that had ever crossed a sentient mind, every unthinkable action ever committed.

Tears streamed down Blade's face as he knelt before the manifestation of evil incarnate. The Nekonian warrior, once so proud and defiant, now trembled in the face of a power beyond his comprehension. In that moment, Blade truly grasped the nature of what stood before him – not a mere opponent, but the very essence of darkness itself.

As Lucifer's laughter echoed through the chamber, Blade felt the last vestiges of his resistance crumbling. The hope that had sustained him for so long now seemed a cruel joke, a child's fantasy in the face of an eternal, implacable force.

The transformation was complete. Blade, once a defiant young Nekonian, had become Lucifer's most formidable knight. In a dramatic display of power that shook the very foundations of Hell, he bested Damion, Lucifer's firstborn, and assumed command of the infernal armies. At his side stood Birman and Burmilla, their own strength having grown exponentially through years of hardship and brutal training.

Together, the three Nekonians became an unstoppable force, laying siege to worlds in Lucifer's name. They worked in shadows and whispers, careful not to alert the forces of Heaven to their machinations. As they grew from children into teenagers, their power and reputation only increased.

Finally, having proven themselves worthy, Lucifer bestowed upon them armor forged in the fiery pits of Hell itself. The metal gleamed with an otherworldly sheen, a testament to the infernal power imbued within. But this was merely a prelude to their true task.

Lucifer's eyes gleamed with dark anticipation as he spoke of their ultimate mission. "Before we can wage war on Heaven," he intoned, his voice like silk over steel, "we require the Triton. A legendary weapon said to reside on Earth, with the power to enslave all beings in the universe to my will. This is the crucial first step in our grand design."

Birman and Burmilla exchanged glances, a flicker of excitement passing between them. After all these long years, they would finally have the chance to meet their little brother, Neko. Birman couldn't suppress a chuckle at the thought.

The three Nekonians stood before the portal to Earth, their infernal armor glinting in the hellfire's glow. Blade's expression was unreadable, a mask of determination and barely contained power. Birman and Burmilla allowed themselves one last moment to take in their comrade's appearance, marveling at how far they had all come from the broken children they once were.

With a simple smirk, Burmilla activated the portal. The air crackled with eldritch energy as a rift tore open before them, offering a glimpse of the world they had left behind so long ago. As one, they stepped forward, their minds focused on the task ahead and the glory of their dark master.

"For the glory of Satan," Blade murmured, his voice carrying the weight of years of torment and triumph. And with that, they vanished into the portal, leaving behind the fires of Hell for the unsuspecting realm of Earth.

To be continued.